Love and Hate
by Compgirl21
Summary: From the very beginning, Chelsea and Vaughn never liked each other. But as time goes on, Chelsea begins to realize that there may be more to this anti-social cowboy than she originally assumed. The presence of a dark-haired girl haunts him, but why?
1. Friends and Enemies

_Friends and Enemies _

"When's your birthday?" The tall man asked.

"Winter 8th," I said, leaning against the railing of the boat and listening to the waves.

"What's your gender?" he asked.

I blinked at him and raised one eyebrow.

"It's protocol; I have to ask," he explained, sighing.

"Girl," I said, "And my name is Chelsea."

"What's your business on Sunshine Islands?"

"I'm thinking about moving there," I said, "and I'd like to look around before I make my decision."

"Practical enough." The man nodded and smiled. "We hope you enjoy your trip. The Islands are beautiful this time of year."

"So I've heard." I plastered a phony smile on my face politely.

He turned to walk back to the cabin. Just before he disappeared, he looked over his shoulder and called, "We should be leaving soon. There's a few other passengers who have to board."

I wrapped my arms around myself and continued to watch the water, letting my mind wander absently.

***

After my parents said I had to leave, I really wasn't sure what I would do. The whole thing had been rather abrupt. I'd been minding my own business, sitting the living room, when Mom came in and sat down.

"You've been here quite a long time, Chelsea," she hedged.

"Yes," I agreed, "Does it matter?"

"I know you've been looking for a job. I know that one day you'll be successful. But your father and I think you'd do better if you had a little . . . push in the right direction."

And that was it. They gave me $3000 'generously'. I packed up my things. And then I left. I still called them occasionally, not letting the resentment I felt seep into my tone. I stayed in a little motel for a few days while I looked for an apartment.

Unsuccessful, I went to a little Café and sat down with some coffee and ran into someone I knew.

"Julia Fletcher?" I asked, smiling widely.

Julia had been one of my very best friends in high school. When school had ended, she'd gone with her mother, Mirabelle, to live on little settlements called Sunshine Islands. We'd lost touch after that, but I never forgot her.

"Chelsea?" She asked in disbelief, coming over to sit by me after a hug. She looked just the same as before; light long blonde hair, big blue eyes and slightly revealing clothes.

"Julia, I haven't seen you in forever!" I cried as she sat down.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" She mused.

"How's life on those new Islands? Are they thriving?" I asked, perhaps too nosily.

She made a face. "They're doing all right, I guess, but some say they aren't doing as well as they once did . . . what we really need is a money-maker, you know? Someone who can make our little home great again." Her voiced was tinged with longing.

"Really? Well, I'm sure someone will come along," I said sympathetically.

She sighed and changed the subject. "So how are things going to for you?"

I averted my eyes, ashamed. "Not so well. My parents got tired of me." I snorted. "I'm looking for an apartment and a job . . . maybe even a new life."

Her eyes brightened, and she grinned. "Chelsea, you don't really care about the city, do you?" Julia asked.

"Not really," I said honestly, "It's too populated and noisy."

"There's an old deserted plot of land on Vendure Island – that's where I live – that we're not using. It used to be an old ranch – the land is perfect for it. Ever considered farming?" She raised an eyebrow.

I leaned back in my chair, considering. I'd always wanted to get out of the city, sure, but farming was an entirely new idea to me. I was fond of animals, and I didn't mind hard work – which it would most certainly require – but . . .

"Come back to the Islands with me and look around. Taro would be thrilled if you said yes."

"Who?" I wondered.

"Oh, I guess you wouldn't know him, would you? He used to be a farmer himself – a pretty good one. He really wants our little Islands to thrive, and he's convinced the only way to do it is to get rancher." Julia shrugged, as if she didn't believe it.

"I don't know anything about it," I hedged.

"He'd teach you, I'm sure. And maybe" – she paused to smirk – "maybe you could ask some of the 'magical fairy folk'. They're rumored to hang around the Islands." She laughed loudly.

I smiled. "Maybe."

"So you'll come, then? I'm leaving this evening," she said persuasively.

I bit my lip. I'd never been an impulsive person; I always thought every little thing through before I did it. But this, what Julia was offering me . . . it would be stupid to not at least check it out. It had possibilities . . .

"Alright," I agreed, "I'll come, if only just to look."

She threw an arm around my shoulders. "Great. Let's get back to my hotel room – I have to pack."

"Why are you in the city, anyway?" I asked as we hailed a taxi.

"Oh, just for fun. There aren't any shopping malls there, you know," she laughed. "I don't come here very often. It must have been fate for me to bump into you like that."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "You know I don't believe in that sort of thing."

She pursed her lips. "Oh, that's right."

***

So that was that.

I was on this rickety old boat, which was heading in the direction of what may or may not be my new life. I wondered ideally for a minute if this was the kind of thing Mom and Dad would approve of.

Probably not, I decided. They always wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer or something.

Julia came out onto the dock to join me just then, smiling widely. "Chelsea, what day is it?"

"Sunday. Why?" I asked.

She looked around the deck. "My cousin might be onboard with us somewhere. He comes to the Island on Mondays and Tuesdays. Come on; let's go look for him."

Unable to come up with a reason why we shouldn't, I agreed, reluctant to leave the pretty water and the falling sun. The inside of the boat was rather cozy, I had to admit – little sofas were spread out in an observation room with a huge window made of glass so you could see the waves.

"He's not out here – maybe he's in one of the guest rooms," she sighed. "We shouldn't bother to look there."

"Maybe he'll come out for dinner," I suggested.

She shrugged. "Doubt it. He's just a bit anti-social."

"Did I ever meet him in high school?" I wondered.

"No – he went somewhere else, with his sister. We can go back onto the deck, if you want," Julia said.

"No – it'll be dark soon, and it's getting cold. Let's stay here."

We lay on one of the long couches in silence. I remembered that one of the great things about Julia was that she didn't feel the need to fill silences with meaningless chatter; we were comfortable just sitting there.

I was relieved that hadn't changed. There was a little counter in another room that sold food, so I bought both of us a hot dog and a little bag of nuts. A few of the other passengers came out their rooms to eat as well; Julia sat facing the hall, searching.

Finally, just as I was almost done, a man rounded the corner into the little eating room. Julia grinned widely and went over to hug him without a verbal greeting. The man froze and then blushed, looking anywhere but at her.

She chuckled and pulled away, gesturing for me to come over. I threw away the little nut bag and did as she asked. "Chelsea, this is my cousin. He's the Island's animal dealer – he works with Mom."

The man frowned down at me. Intimidated, I bit my lip and blinked. He was perhaps the oddest-looking person I'd ever seen – but in a good way. He had silvery jaw-length hair, and amethyst-colored eyes, a deep purple I'd never seen before. They were partially obscured, however, by the black Stetson hat he wore.

The rest of his clothes matched the cowboy appearance; a black button-down with a tan vest, black jeans, black fingerless gloves and a white bandana around his neck. Absently, my hand reached up to touch my own red bandana, neatly tying my hair back.

He continued to stare at me, almost in disapproval, and a knot formed in my stomach.

Rather than allowing the awkward silence to stretch on, though, I found my voice. "Nice to meet you."

He nodded at me once before his eyes flicked to Julia in irritation. "Are we done with introductions? I just wanted a drink." His voice was deep and gruff, but still smooth and appealing.

My heart was beating so loud it wouldn't surprise me if everyone on this boat heard it.

Julia frowned and sighed. "Don't be rude, Vaughn. Say hello."

Vaughn, I thought. So that was his name.

He turned to me and muttered "hello" before whirling and heading to the counter. When I looked back at Julia, she was smiling apologetically.

"Sorry. I guess I should have warned you about him. He's not . . . overly-friendly."

"_Overly?_" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She avoided my eyes now. "Okay, so he's not friendly at all."

"I can hardly believe he's related to you," I said, "You, the picture of happiness and optimism."

Julia waved one hand dismissively.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw the man behind the counter handing Vaughn some sort of red drink in a fancy-looking cup. _Wine_, my mind supplied. When he tried to pass us to go back into his room, Julia caught his elbow.

"Vaughn, wait – sit with us in the observation room for a while." Her voice was half-hearted, anticipating his response.

His eyes were cold and hard. "No." He turned and disappeared down the hall without looking back.

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting feelings of anger and pessimism. "Did I do something . . .?" I asked Julia, my mind scanning over our short greeting and coming up blank.

Julia shook her head almost violently. "No, Chelsea, it wasn't you, I promise. He's like that to everyone, and always has been; if you move to the Island, you'll get used to it."

"If all the other Islanders are as welcoming as _he_ is, then maybe Sunshine Islands is not the place for me," I mumbled nervously.

Julia chuckled unexpectedly. "Trust me, Chelsea, everyone is the exact opposite of Vaughn. Warn and friendly and happy and all that."

"If you say so . . ." I murmured, glancing once more over my shoulder as we made our way to the little observation room and sitting on little blue couches.

There were a few other people in the room, and they were all talking quietly amongst themselves.

"So he's always been like that, then?" I asked the question before thinking, but I chastised myself almost immediately after the words fells from my lips. It wasn't my business to know anything about Julia's rude cousin, and it _shouldn't_ interest me in the slightest.

Just because he was attractive didn't mean he was worth getting to know, I told myself, thinking of his eyes in particular.

Julia looked both surprised and curious by my question, but she shrugged and answered me anyway. "Yes, always. He didn't have the best upbringing, though."

"Oh? What happened?" It was like I didn't have control of myself – I couldn't shut up.

Julia bit her lip and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "Chelsea, it really isn't my place to say."

"Yes, of course not," I said quickly, "Excuse me for asking." _Stupid_, I growled to myself, _stop asking nosy questions. _

Julia's laugh rang out across the small room. A few people glanced up, either curious or irritated. "Don't be so formal, Chelsea. If you really want to know, you could ask him – but I feel obligated to warn you that his reply might be colorful."

I snorted and shuddered slightly. "It doesn't matter; I don't know why I asked. Tell me more about the Islands," I said to change the subject.

She was instantly talking animatedly about her wonderful home – how beautiful and simple it was, how kind the people were, how much potential it had.

"Taro thinks it could be a real success. If I remember correctly, you were always so determined in school, Chelsea. I bet you could do it. You could build a thriving farm and find all the sunstones."

"Sunstones?" I asked, caught off guard by the unfamiliar word.

She paused and seemed to realize something. "Oh, sorry, Chelsea, of course you wouldn't know what those are – Taro will explain it better than I can."

I shrugged and agreed.

She then proceeded to tell me about the people who lived on the Islands. "Since there's only three Islands – well, four, if you count Lighthouse Island, which is pretty much deserted – there aren't many people. There's my Mom and me – and Vaughn, when he's here – Chen and Charlie, Natalie, Taro, Felicia, Denny, Lanna, Gannon, Eliza, Regis, Sabrina, and a few others whose names I've forgotten."

"Is that everyone?" I asked.

"No. There's also Elliot." She said his name warmly, lovingly almost.

"Boyfriend?" I guessed, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugged and blushed slightly. "We haven't actually said we're going out officially, but I guess so."

"What's he like?" I said, honestly curious.

She talked about Elliot for quite some time, and I struggled to focus on our conversation after the first eight minutes. From her descriptions, Elliot sounded nice enough, but also a bit of a nerd. Of all the types of guys I could picture Julia with, nerds weren't among them.

I always figured she'd end up with a jock or a model or something – she was certainly pretty enough. It was funny – I usually had no problem envisioning the type of people others would be with, but when I thought of myself, of my type, I had absolutely no idea.

Without my conscious permission, I thought of Julia's cousin, of how he'd made me feel even after that short greeting.

Intimidated, irritated, saddened – all those negative emotions that were enough to make anyone avoid the person who inspired such feelings. But there was something else I couldn't put my finger on . . . something good, I decided.

It was pointless to even consider it, though – he obviously despised me (for unknown reasons), and the bad feelings outweighed the good ones at any rate. I didn't even like him. He was a jerk. I was wasting my energy just thinking of him.

So I forced my mind to think of other things, to focus on what Julia was still saying about Elliot.

***

"Chelsea, look, it's just up ahead!" Julia cried excitedly, pointing a finger at the two large Islands in the distance.

"How do you get from one to the other?" I asked curiously.

"There's a bridge," Julia said, in a voice that implied it should be obvious, "And there's a man named Kirk was takes us to Meadow Island when we want to go there – it's too far away from the main two Islands for a bridge."

"Oh," I said lamely, "Why aren't the other passengers out here? Aren't they getting off?"

"No – this boat stops at another Island, too, one that's much more populated," Julia said, her eyes never leaving the approaching Island.

"Why" – I started to ask, but in the corner of my eye, I saw Vaughn stepping out on the deck, a black bag slung over his shoulder.

He was in the same clothes as yesterday, and for a moment I wondered if he was hot – this fall had unusually high temperatures this time of year.

As he approached us, a comment burst from my lips before I could stop it. "You must be hot in those clothes." I desperately tried not to blush and avert my eyes when I realized the double meaning in my words.

His eyes widened slightly and he seemed to take a moment to compose a reply. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not – it's not your business," he said, his voice gruffer than last night.

_Jerk. _

"Good morning, Vaughn," Julia said, obviously trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the air with an overly-cheerful attitude.

He sighed and mumbled, "Morning, Julia."

I would have spoken, too, but I pursed my lips in a tight line, still angry. It was out of line for me to ask him my question, but he could have been a bit more graceful about it. I couldn't even study the Island closely when we pulled up alongside the dock – I was too aggravated.

And what made it even worse was that, when we were walking off the boat toward the dock, I glanced up and saw him smirking slightly, as if my rage was amusing to him. I wanted to push him off the little path into the ocean, but I refrained.

Committing an act of harassment might not be the best first impression to make on the Islanders.

Still, I gave him my most vicious-looking glare when I managed to meet his eyes; the smirk fell away, and he glared right back. I dropped my eyes, losing my nerve, and stared straight ahead, wanting to hit something.

In the distance, I could see a short figure walking swiftly towards us, and I breathed a sigh of relief, needing the distraction. In my hurry to get to the figure, however, I became clumsy, and somehow managed to trip over my own feet.

I dropped my hand and my hands flew out in front of me, waiting to absorb the impact. But it never came. Instead, I felt a strong hand curl around my wrist and pull me roughly back onto my feet.

I blinked, surprised, and then stared down at Vaughn's hand around my wrist, marveling at the electricity that seemed to radiate from his hand and shoot up my arm. His hand lingered where it was for a moment, possibly feeling the same thing I was, before he hurriedly let go like my skin was dripping with acid.

I looked up at him, my eyes wide. He looked a bit off-balance as well, before the already-familiar frown twisted his features.

He was still striking, even annoyed. "Be careful," he snapped, but his voice held something else besides anger, and I couldn't decipher what it was.

I didn't answer; we kept walking toward the figure, who was much closer now. Inconspicuously, I glanced over at Vaughn once more; he looked indifferent, flatly apathetic.

Jerkish as he was, I couldn't help but wonder if I would feel that electric shock if I touched his skin again. My hand moved outward a few inches . . . and then I snatched it back, beyond annoyed with myself now.

Feeling or no feeling, I had no business knowing him and I didn't _want _to know him.

"Julia! Vaughn!" The figure – a woman – stopped in front of us with a wide smile.

She threw her arms around her daughter. "How was your trip to the city? Did you buy anything good, dear?"

Julia smiled. "Not this time, Mom. But I did bring back someone you know." She gestured to me. Julia's mother – Mirabelle, I remembered – studied me for a moment before her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Chelsea? Is it really you, honey?" I grinned.

Mirabelle looked just the same as I remembered – short, a bit chubby and emitting love and friendliness. "The one and only, Mirabelle."

She laughed and pulled me into a tight hug. "What are you doing here? Are you visiting for a while?"

"Chelsea's going to ask Taro about that old abandoned ranch up north," Julia answered before I could, "She's going to live here!"

"Maybe," I reminded her.

She waved me off, like I hadn't spoken. "Come on, Mom, we have to go find him."

"I didn't know you even liked farming, Chelsea," Mirabelle commented as we began walking.

"I don't know much about it," I admitted, "But, to be honest, I'd like to start a new . . . life for myself, if you will. Julia told me about this Island, and I just thought that maybe . . ."

I heard a quiet snort from behind. I glanced over my shoulder to find Vaughn staring with a smug expression.

I swallowed my rage and stared straight ahead.

"I'm sure you could do it, honey. You were always stubborn," Mirabelle laughed, apparently missing her nephew's impoliteness.

"I hope so," I murmured softly.

They both sounded so encouraging and, as I looked around, I saw how beautiful the Island truly was. Not such a bad place to spend a long period of time.

"I run an Animal Shop, Chen runs a general store, Gannon is the carpenter, and Vaughn is the animal dealer. He'd bring you anything you ordered," Mirabelle said sweetly.

"After she's learned a thing or two about animals," Vaughn said quickly, his eyes suspicious, "I don't want them dead within the week."

I gaped at him, infuriated, halting my walk. "You" – I stuttered, raising my hand to jab my index finger at him.

Julia bit her lip. Vaughn raised an eyebrow, almost daring me to insult him.

"Maybe you should go inside the Shop, Vaughn," Julia said, almost desperately, "Start work? There's a lot to do, you know."

Vaughn continued to stare at me challengingly for a few seconds before he looked at his cousin. "Alright," he said indifferently.

He went inside a large red building we were just walking by without another word. Tears were stinging in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. He wouldn't affect me this strongly. I wouldn't _let _him.

It was confusing – the way my mind reacted to him, and the way my body reacted, two entirely different things. But I could ignore the latter. I could ignore my stupid attraction to him. As I turned away and began walking with Julia and Mirabelle again, resolve formed in my mind.

From this point on, I would have as little as possible to do with the Island's animal dealer.

**A/N: So this is a new one . . . the title is subject to change. **


	2. An unsettling arrangement

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon. I do not make money from this. All credit is given to Natsume entertainment. This goes for the whole story. **

_2: An unsettling arrangement_

"This is Taro's house," Mirabelle said, gesturing to a house a bit smaller than the previous two buildings we'd passed.

"It's . . . quaint," I said, for lack of a better word.

Julia chuckled. "We all live pretty simply around here. I haven't seen a computer in years!"

Mirabelle knocked on the door, three loud raps.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I heard a female voice snap from the other side before the door was jerked open roughly. The young woman standing behind it was about my age, with short red hair and large brown eyes.

She held a broom in one had a frown on her lips.

"Good morning, Natalie; is your grandfather around?" Mirabelle asked brightly.

Natalie's eyes lingered curiously on me for a few seconds before she replied. "He's in the back room. Come on in and I'll get him."

"Thanks, Nat," Julia said, beaming.

We entered the little house and were immediately greeted by another woman with the same shade of hair as Natalie's, but it was difficult to make out her eye color because she kept batting them repeatedly.

"Morning, Mirabelle and Julia. Have you come for tea?" the woman asked, grinning widely.

"Nope, we need to talk to Taro," said Julia.

We'd been sitting at the small square table for quite a few minutes before the nameless woman finally glanced up from her conversation with Mirabelle and noticed me.

"Mirabelle, who is this? A new resident?"

"I'm Chelsea," I said, smiling politely, "Julia talked to me about an old abandoned ranch on the Island. I thought I might . . ."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" The woman said, clapping her hands happily. "My dear father has been going on about that for months. Do you have any prior experience with farming?"

"No," I admitted, "But I think I could learn . . ."

"Of course you could," an old, raspy voice said, coming from behind me.

I turned in my chair and came face-to-face with a very short, very elderly man, leaning heavily on a gnarled old cane.

He appraised me silently for a second before continuing. "It'd be nice if you had a background history with this sort of thing, but if you want to learn, I'd be more than happy to teach you."

"Oh, Chelsea, won't you stay?" Julia pleaded, "You'll love it here, I promise."

"It's a big decision to make," I hedged.

"Dang right it is. And you'll need to be determined, too; you wouldn't just be building a ranch, but collecting sunstones as well."

Natalie walked back into the little kitchen area, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing.

"Sunstones?" I asked.

The old man then proceeded to tell me exactly what these mysterious objects were. He said that they were red in color, round, bright and smooth, and always warm to the touch.

He said these stones held power beyond all imagining, power to raise long-sunken land from the depths of the ocean.

"You see, girlie," the old man continued, "There used to be a lot more Islands around here rather than just the four. If you can collect all the sunstones, you can raise all the Islands back up."

His story sounded a bit iffy to me.

My disbelief must have shown on my face because Natalie frowned and spoke up. "It's true. After you get enough sunstones for one Island, you can raise it up, on Meadow Island, where the shrine is."

"Shrine?" I asked.

"It's sacred to this Island, and very powerful," the old man said respectfully.

"How will I know when I have enough sunstones for an Island?" I asked.

"The Harvest Spites will tell you, if you go to the shrine with enough stones," the nameless woman said from behind me.

"Magical fairy folk," Julia mouthed to me when I stared blankly.

I chuckled a bit nervously. "Um . . . alright."

The old man sighed and reached into his pocket. "_This_," he said lowly, "Is a sunstone."

I held out my hands, and he dropped the stone into them. I held it up in the light, instantly marveling at its beauty.

It _was_ very warm to the touch, and it _was _smooth and red, but it was also mesmerizing. There seemed to be a strange aura of power emitting from this stone, and it was both frightened and amazing at the same time. And all of a sudden, it was not so difficult to believe these strange sunstones could raise massive Islands from the ocean.

I gave it back to the old man reluctantly. "It's beautiful," I sighed.

"Yes, it is. If you're really up to this, it will all work out. I'm Taro, by the way. This is my daughter Felicia" – he gesturing to the batting-eyes woman – "this is my granddaughter Natalie" – he gestured to the girl next to him – "and I also have a grandson named Elliot, but he's over on Sprout Island now. Perhaps you'll meet him later."

"So will you do it, Chelsea? Will you stay here?" Julia asked, smiling.

"It's a huge decision . . . I'm sure you could find someone better, but . . ." It was exactly what I had been wishing for. New surroundings, a new job, new people . . . a new _life. _This was by no means what I pictured at all, but it was not necessarily unappealing. I'd always had a bit of a green thumb, and I did love being around animals.

Still…

"Can I think about it?" I asked, "Please?"

Taro shrugged. "Don't see why not."

"Thank you." I smiled nicely.

"Natalie, why don't you go show her around? Julia's meeting Elliot at the Café for lunch today," Mirabelle said, "Felicia and I are just going to sit and talk for a while."

Julia blushed slightly. "I'm sure Elliot will understand, Mom; I haven't seen Chelsea in forever."

Mirabelle shrugged. "As you wish."

"You can still come, though, if you want, Natalie," Julia invited the red-head as we were near the door.

Natalie shrugged. "Sure. Maybe Pierre's out looking for ingredients."

Julia nodded. "Maybe."

***

They showed me the beautiful little Islands for the rest of the day, and I met an assortment of different people.

I met Pierre, a scarily childish man who was completely obsessed with food, cooking, and foraging. He barely shut up about it the entire time we spoke, though Natalie seemed to adore him.

I found that Natalie was a bit of a tomboy with attitude who didn't have much patience with people, but we got along just fine; she had a great sense of humor, at least.

I met an optimistic, nice looking man with dark skin and curly hair; he was a fisherman named Denny. He spoke of fishing for a little bit and offered to teach me, but he didn't feel the need for every conversation to be about what he did for a living, unlike Pierre.

He had a girlfriend named Lanna. She had long blonde hair, deep hazel eyes, and a passion for singing. She was a pop star who'd come to the city for a little break, and I remembered hearing about her one great song when I lived in the city.

I met a creepy man named Regis; he owned a major mining company and was hanging around this Island because he had a "feeling" that there were riches here just waiting to be discovered. He wore a long black cape and a gleaming red ring on his right hand, and his smile was enough to send a chill up my spine.

We didn't hang around him for long.

I found that his daughter, Sabrina, was much more pleasant to be around. Her glossy black hair and large glasses went well with her pale skin. She was shy and quiet, but definitely nice enough. Her eyes were a light shade of lavender, a purple color.

But thinking about purple eyes made me think of someone else, and I wasn't going to think about Vaughn today. Thinking about him only made me angry . . . and somewhat curious.

At any rate, I wanted to focus on meeting new people and learning about my surroundings. I didn't see him all that day – he hid out in what Julia had told me was the Animal Shop, where she lived and worked.

What was really irritating was that a small part of me actually _wanted _to see him, so I kept reminding myself of his attitude, his infuriating nature, and I felt a little better. Still, whenever we passed the Shop, my eyes flew to the windows and tried to catch a glimpse of him moving around inside.

_Stalker_, I accused myself.

The abandoned plot of land that had once been a ranch was astounding to me. It was very beautiful, with rolling green grass and a peaceful ocean. I examined the soil and found it would be perfect for crops, and Taro told me the land to the north of the soil would be a great place for a chicken coop and a barn.

There was already an old stable in place and an old tool shed, so thankfully I wouldn't have to build those. The little farmhouse where I might live was very small, but it was cozy, with a little fireplace and a box-sized kitchen and a twin-sized bed.

All in all, I felt right at home already. I slept there that night, knowing I would make my decision the following day.

It would be rude keeping an answer from them for so long.

Natalie and Julia met me at the door of the little farmhouse the next morning; there were still some people I had yet to meet.

We went down to a considerably large house – nothing next to Regis's mansion, but still – and met the carpenter, Gannon.

He was frightening in an entirely different way that Regis was, less subtle. He was a huge, lumbering man who could probably kill me if he flicked me wrong. He was polite enough, but he was a bit brusque, obviously wanting to get back to his work.

I met his daughter, Eliza, and her friend Charlie. Eliza was a beautiful little girl with bouncing blonde curls and huge ice-blue eyes. She was full of herself, though, and encouraged me to get beauty tips from her any time I liked. She probably had good intentions, but her words got under my skin nonetheless.

Charlie was a much more modest little boy whose goal in life was to be a successful merchant like his father, Chen. He called me "lady" and had a very obvious crush on Gannon's daughter. He followed her around like a hypnotized puppy dog, and it was slightly sad because she barely seemed to notice his crush.

I often heard her speak about how she wanted to marry someone prestigious and dignified when she was older, and Charlie would sigh and mumble to himself unintelligibly.

It was very obvious to me that there were good, decent people on this Island and it would be easy – after being here for a long time – to forget that the outside world even existed. Julia didn't pester me as much as yesterday about making a choice, but her eagerness was obvious in the way she acted.

Finally, at about noon, she burst. "Chelsea, are you going to move here or not?"

I blinked, unprepared for the question. "Julia . . . I'm . . . it's . . ."

"You'd love it here," she insisted, "And sunstones probably aren't _that _hard to find."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Julia," a raspy voice said.

We both whirled to see the withered old man walking up to us, smiling slightly.

"Hi, Taro," I said politely.

"G'morning, girlies."

"Sunstones can't be so hard to find," Julia argued stubbornly.

"They are. Everything about being these Islands' farmer would be difficult," Taro declared.

Julia sighed, but didn't disagree again. I sighed, staring out into the waves that were crashing onto the almost-white sand. What he said was true; it _would _be hard. But there was nothing left for me in the city.

Nothing worth going back to or starting. I'd been on these Islands for two days, and I adored them already.

I turned back to the old man slowly. "I think I'll do it, Taro." My voice was sure, though my stomach was in knots. I hated making big decisions; but after that was done, following through was usually a cinch.

Taro nodded and shrugged, as if he had expected this reply. "Okay then. Should I start teaching you tomorrow?"

"There's some things in the city I need to go back and get," I murmured.

There were still some things at my parents' house I needed to retrieve, but I didn't really want to be around them at all. I could go during the day, when they were both at work . . . I wasn't sure if I had the money for another motel room – not unless it was a cheap, dirty, disgusting motel where the cockroaches were the size of your fist.

I shuddered slightly.

I toyed with the idea of staying at my parents for the night because of my lack of optiona, but I recoiled from the thought. I just _couldn't _see them now. The pain of what they'd done was still too fresh.

"You look nervous, Chelsea. What's wrong?" Julia asked, frowning.

I smiled slightly at her. One of the things I'd adored about Julia back in school was that she truly cared for other people, and since I was her best friend, I'd gotten special attention. I was ashamed to admit my problem to her, though.

Especially when Taro was there.

The old man seemed to take a hint after an awkward silence settled over the three of us. "Well, I ought to get back. When do you think you'll be back?"

"Day after tomorrow. I'll leave tonight." I wanted to get the city trip done and over with as soon as possible. If I only had a decent place to stay . . .

When Taro was gone, Julia crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly.

I sighed and avoided her gaze. "It's nothing, Julia."

"Chelsea, I know we haven't seen each other in forever and everything, but I remember how you look and how you sound when you're lying." Her voice was accusing.

I looked up at her, chuckling softly. "Some things never change, huh?"

She didn't answer; she just continued to wait. I sighed once again before caving. "I don't have the money for a motel, alright? And I'm not desperate enough" – _yet, _I added sourly – "to stay in a bug-infested place. I don't want to stay with my parents, either."

Julia and I began walking back towards Vendure Island. Her lips were pursed in a tight line. "We'll, we'd lend you the money, Chelsea; it's just that things have been a bit tight lately."

My voice was quiet. "I don't want you to loan me money, Julia. I'll figure something out, alright?"

"I'd just feel horribly, though," my friend continued as we approached the Animal Shop, "knowing that you're in that huge city without a place to spend the night."

We went inside; Mirabelle stood dutifully behind the counter. Almost instantly, my eyes scanned the room, looking for _him_, but he was nowhere to be seen. I ignored the part of me that was disappointed and focused on the part that was relieved.

"Hello, girls," Mirabelle said nicely.

"Mom, Chelsea's decided to move here, isn't that wonderful? But she's got to go back to the city tonight and she's not sure where to spend the night," Julia blurted out.

I blushed a deep red. I didn't more people knowing about my financial troubles. Mirabelle frowned, and didn't question why I wouldn't simply buy a room.

"That is a problem."

There was a bit of an awkward silence for a few minutes; Julia and her mother seemed deep in thought. I was fighting the urge to simply run away.

"I wonder . . ." Julia murmured quietly after a moment.

She walked over to Mirabelle slowly, and then bent down to whisper in her ear. Annoyed, I striated to hear what Julia was saying, but her voice was simply too hushed. Mirabelle looked a little unsure for a moment, but then she shrugged and seemed to be trying to pull off an expression of indifference.

"You can ask, dear, but, honestly, I don't think he'd . . ."

"_He?_" I asked, my voice dropping.

They ignored me and began whispering again. Finally, after the longest three minutes in the world, Julia straightened up and looked determined.

"There's no harm in asking," she said, "so I'm going to."

"Ask _who?_ Ask _what?_" I snapped irritably.

"Dear, let's go into the kitchen and make lunch, alright? I know you haven't had anything all day besides those wild herbs," Mirabelle said, walking out from behind the counter and placing her hand on my back, leading me to her small kitchen area.

"But . . ." I trailed off, sitting down at one of the table chairs and wondering why Julia hadn't followed us in.

"What's she doing, Mirabelle?" I asked suspiciously, "You can tell me."

"It's not important," said Julia's mother promptly.

She made us grilled cheese sandwiches and attempted to make small talk with me about things like the weather, but my answers were usually curt and short. Finally, after about twenty five minutes, I heard a door slam in the hallway.

Julia strode into the kitchen a few minutes after that, her expression triumphant.

"What were you doing?" I groaned, knowing it was something I probably wouldn't approve of.

"Making sleeping arrangements for you," she replied cryptically, taking a sandwich and sitting down across from me.

My eyes narrowed. "And . . . ?"

Julia sighed and glanced up at me with huge, wide blue eyes. "Don't freak out, okay?"

"Now I'm scared," I said nervously.

"I asked my cousin if he would house you in his apartment for one night." Julia's voice rushed through the sentence so quickly I had to pause and decipher individual words.

Afterwards, I stared at her in horror and disbelief. "You . . . you asked _Vaughn_?" I asked incredulously.

"Yup," said Julia nonchalantly.

"And he _agreed?_" My voice was heavily skeptic as I remembered how he'd looked at me, so disapprovingly, so apathetically, on the boat that had brought to the Islands.

He truly disliked me.

So why would he agree to something he obviously didn't want?

Julia fidgeted, tearing off little bits of bread and cheese and stuffing them in her mouth. "Well, I have to be a bit persuasive, but he owes me. And it's just one night, Chelsea. Honestly, it's no big deal."

I pursed my lips. "I don't want to stay in a place where I'm not welcome."

"Oh, stop talking nonsense," Mirabelle insisted, leaning against the counter. "It's understandable if you can't see it right now, but Vaughn's a good person under all that ice. He won't mind terribly if you stay just one night."

I almost gnawed off my lips just thinking about it; leaving the Islands and staying in the house of this irritatingly attractive man who seemed to despise me.

"I made him promise to be nice," Julia said, "And to be a good host."

I snorted. "We'll see."

"So you'll do it? It won't be that bad, Chelsea. He'll probably hide in his room all night, and you won't have to speak with him much at all."

That was probably true. And it was slightly comforting to know I'd have a roof over my head tomorrow night . . . "Alright," I said, attempting to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Vaughn's boat leaves around ten this evening," Mirabelle informed me, "So you should be down at the dock by then."

***

It was nine thirty, and I had everything I needed in my rucksack. All I needed to do was walk down to that dock and wait for the boat.

With him.

All day, my mind had been conjuring up disturbing images about how this one simple plan could go horribly wrong, and I was on the verge of cancelling altogether. Julia must have guessed I would do this because she showed up at the door of my farmhouse as I was pacing a hole in the floor inside.

"Don't back out at the last minute, Chelsea," she said cheerfully, "It's rude."

I glared harshly at her and continued to chew on my lips.

Julia rolled her eyes and sighed. "Chelsea, it's not like I'm sending you off to a sadistic serial killer. It's just my _cousin._"

"Your cousin hates me," I snapped.

"No, he doesn't. I told you on the boat – he's like that to everybody. It's nothing personal. He just doesn't like people."

"Well, _that_ makes me feel all warm and fuzzy," I growled, my voice bitingly sarcastic.

"Come on," she said, gesturing to the door.

She walked me as far as the Animal Shop, claiming she had to go inside and help her mother. "I'll see you soon, Chelsea. I can't wait for you to start living here and building a ranch and finding sunstones and raising Islands."

She glanced around, as if looking for eavesdroppers. "Felicia thinks these Islands create miracles. You'll build a hugely successful farm, raise all the islands, and, who knows, maybe you'll fall in love." Julia beamed.

I rolled my eyes. She'd always been a hopeless romantic. "Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly," I muttered, turning away. "Bye, Jules. See you soon."

"Bye, Chelsea!" She called back before going inside.

I contemplating running back to my farmhouse – it's not like he'd come looking for me – but that just seemed cowardly.

So, I swallowed heavily, took a deep breath, and began walking towards Sprout Island, where torment would surely begin.

**A/N: Ugh, I kept writing Island instead of Island**_**s**_**. Has anybody else noticed that Felicia and Chen **_**never **_**open their eyes? **


	3. Who is it?

_3. Who is it?_

The moon was the only source of light to be found on this Island at night. Since it was a remote little place, there were no streetlights placed at regular intervals. As I squinted ahead, I could make out the shape of one lone figure waiting silently at the dock.

The only sounds were my footsteps, the rolling waves, and my heart, beating so quickly I thought it would leap out of my chest.

_Stop doing this_, I scolded myself mentally, _everything will be fine._

I was normally very good at deception, a product of rebellion in my teenage years, but lying to myself was wholly different than lying to other people.

I sighed unhappily.

Hesitantly, I approached where he stood, stopping beside him on the dock. "About time," were the first words out of his mouth. I ignored the comment; I'd told myself repeatedly he wasn't going to get inside my head like the last time.

It infuriated me beyond belief. I glanced up at him once; he was staring out at the sea, frowning, as if the scene was offensive to him. I bit my lip hard.

I thought it would be rude to go back with him and not say one word of gratitude, even if he wasn't entirely willing and his words were rude or arrogant. I'd gone over in my head exactly what I should say, but finding my voice was more difficult than I cared to admit.

"I really appreciate this, Vaughn," I said softly.

My eyes looked up to see his reaction without my conscious permission.

For a split second, he seemed surprised, but then he hid behind his usual blank mask. "It wasn't my choice, really."

I'd anticipated him to say something like this, so I replied coolly, "It still means a lot to me. I'll try not to bother you while I'm there."

"Good." He nodded once, not meeting my gaze.

He wore the same clothes as before, but without the tan vest and the gloves. His lovely eyes seemed to glow in this light, and strands of silver hair were brushing his strong jaw.

Vaughn finally glanced at me, irritated. "What?"

I looked away hurriedly, embarrassed to be caught staring. "Nothing," I murmured quietly.

An awkward silence fell over us, and I was more than a little relieved when the boat appeared in the distance. When it pulled up alongside the dock, we boarded without a word. The ride back to the city took about two hours, so we'd probably be at his apartment at about midnight.

I swallowed heavily at the thought.

He moved to the concession counter almost immediately after we got inside, sitting down on one of the stools. There weren't any other people in view. I stood there awkwardly, unsure what I was expected to do.

Vaughn ordered something from the man behind the counter.

After a few minutes of contemplation, I sighed and went to sit by him. The man gave Vaughn a fancy glass almost identical to the one I'd seen before, with the same wine inside.

"You drink often?" I asked before I could stop myself; I'd merely meant to think it. I was incredibly aggravated with myself; I didn't usually just blurt things out without thinking; I was generally the type of person who thought everything through.

Vaughn raised his eyebrows and sipped the drink. He set it back on the counter, his eyes suspicious. "No," he said, almost defensively.

I blinked, shocked he hadn't said something like 'none of your business'. Maybe he was tired. There _were _dark shadows under his eyes, now that I looked more closely.

Vaughn looked away, muttering something unintelligible.

It seemed inappropriate to simply leave that little exchanging hanging, so I tried to make small talk. "So you're only on the Island two days a week?"

He glanced at me, lips pursed in a tight line. "What's it to you?"

I bristled, instantly coming up with a decent excuse. "If I become the Island's rancher, the information would be useful."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't know why you're even doing this. Not just anyone can do this job; it takes determination and hard work. Not some little city girl waltzing in and starting a farm just because she doesn't have anything better to do."

His words were like a vicious punch in the stomach.

I felt tears beginning to form in my eyes, but I fought them, unwilling to let this horrid person see me cry.

"You don't think I can do it?" I asked, my voice tight.

He stared at me with cold eyes, and his voice was just as cruel. "I _know _you can't."

I wasn't going to take this. I wasn't going to just sit here and let him degrade me this way. I stood up and glared at him. "You are a terrible person," I snapped, "who obviously chooses to only see the bad in people. I _can _do it, and I _will _do it."

Vaughn smirked, smug. "I'll believe it when I see it," he said, taking another drink.

I was so angry I could sweat my vision was clouded by bits of red. At this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from this man as possible.

"You know what?" I managed to say, struggling to keep my voice calm and steady, unwilling to let him see how much his words affected me. "Stay away from me when we get to the city. If I can't find a motel room, I'll sleep on some street. It's preferable compared to the idea of being under the same roof as you."

I wheeled and, without waiting for a response, stomped down the hall and into the tiny bathroom, where the tears welled up again and spilled over.

It was uncomfortable, staying in a bathroom scarcely large enough to move around in, for two hours. But I did it. Because every time I considered leaving the room, his words, his glare, came back into my mind and I stayed.

I hated him.

I truly did. He had no reason to be so vicious, kicking me while I was down. It was downright malicious. But the time came for the passengers to get off the boat when it pulled up alongside a dock in the city.

So, after making sure my eyes were dry, I opened the door and went out into the room with the concession stand. Part of me was sure he'd left already, leaving me stranded like the jerk he was. But, surprisingly, he was there, leaning against a wall, waiting.

His eyes were completely void of any sort of emotion, but he did look at me without saying anything. I didn't speak one word to him; instead I walked right past him, out onto the dock and into the night.

The city was just as I remembered it; loud, noisy, crowded, smelly, polluted . . . the list went on and on. I'd grown up here – shouldn't I be the slightest bit fond of it? But I felt no trace of any positive emotion; of course, that could just be from the past two agonizing hours.

I'd known the second Julia announced her plan that something like this would happen – so why did it hurt so much now that it actually had? Was it just because I was attracted to him, that there was some stupid spark?

I'd gotten my share of ugly comments from other people growing up, but I'd always been able to brush it off, or retaliate with some witty remark. Nothing ever really bothered me in the way of insults.

Why was it different now?

I kept walking as I was thinking, not even bothering to look behind me. I came to a busy street and pressed the silver button that indicated whether or not I could cross. I wasn't sure where I was going, but at this point, it didn't matter.

The city was still buzzing with activity, even at this ungodly hour – another annoying trait. Just as I was about to cross the street, I felt a hand on my arm.

I knew by the jolt of feeling that ran up my arm that it was Vaughn.

Still, I jerked away and whirled to face him.

He looked irritated.

"What do you want? I told you I'd be fine on my own," I grumbled, shivering as a chilly breeze stung my cheeks.

He rolled his eyes. "Julia would kill me if she knew I let you go off on your own."

"I won't tell her," I sighed, looking away.

Of course Julia would be his only reason for wanting to offer me assistance. It wasn't like he had a heart or anything.

He sighed, too, and looked away, towards the towering buildings. "Come on; my place isn't far, Chelsea." He put a hand on my arm and tugged me to the west gently.

A tiny shiver of delight rolled through me when he said my name. I hated it. "Vaughn, really, it's not necessary."

But, as he began walking, I followed him, against my better judgment. Because, in all honesty, sleeping on a street was _not _an appealing idea.

"Just come on," he repeated impatiently.

We crossed a few streets, rounded a few corners, and eventually we were walking down a rather remote, quiet street lined with tall brick buildings and dim streetlights. I'd been annoyed by the constant noise at first, but this piercing silence was exceedingly eerie.

I swallowed heavily and glanced around, as if I expected something horrible to come slinking out of the shadows.

I jumped a foot in the air when I felt Vaughn's hand on the small of my back. "Stay close," he grunted, ignoring my reaction, "Some odd creatures hang around here at night."

"Bad neighborhood?" I asked, unconsciously moving closer to him, closer than he was comfortable with, I was sure.

"Yes," he said without missing a beat.

We passed a very dark alley, and I was almost positive I saw a set of eyes, watching us we walked, and I gripped onto Vaughn's arm in fright. He bit his lip, but didn't attempt to remove my hand; he must have noticed my nervousness.

Finally, he stopped at the nicest building on the street, and we climbed up the stairs. He pulled a small silver key from his pocket and opened the door; it creaked sinisterly. When we got inside, I let go of Vaughn's arm quickly, blushing slightly.

"It's creepy out there," I whispered.

He shrugged as we began walking up a staircase. "You get used to it."

We stopped in front of a big white door. He pulled out another key – brass, this time – and unlocked the door. He flipped the light switch on and we went inside; he locked the door behind us.

His living room was simple; long, black leather couch, a TV, an armchair, a coffee table, a window . . . nothing particularity remarkable or homely at all. There were no knickknacks on the mantle of the nice-looking fireplace.

There were no photos hanging on the walls. It was as if he'd placed only the bare essentials here and neglected to do anything else with the place at all. I could see the kitchen from where I stood, and a long hall that led to three doors, all closed.

"I'm going to sleep," he told me, walking down the hall and putting a hand on one of the doorknobs.

I supposed I was expected to sleep on the sofa – where else would I? In his bed? I blushed and averted my eyes at _that_ particular thought.

"The bathroom's right there," he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the door directly across from his.

I nodded once. "Good night, Vaughn."

He looked away and mumbled "good night" before disappearing into his room. Hesitantly, I allowed the rucksack to slide from my shoulders and land on the floor. I grabbed my bag of toiletries and prepared for bed in the simple bathroom.

Nothing homely in there, either. It was surprisingly comfortable on his couch, but it might have only seemed that way since I was dead tired.

My eyelids drooped and I was half unconscious when I noticed a photo I'd neglected to see before on the little coffee table.

It was Julia and Mirabelle; they were standing outside a house, smiling widely. _Well, there's _one _personal thing here, _was my last thought before unconsciousness claimed me.

***

My dreams did not offer peace of mind however. I was working to built a farm in this dream, a successful farm, with crops and animals and profits. But no matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, nothing seemed to go right. My crops withered, the animals got sick, what they produced made little money.

Finally, I just collapsed right in the middle of the field and buried my face in my hands.

When I looked up, Vaughn was looking down at me, his amethyst eyes flashing. "I told you so," he said tonelessly.

I dropped my face back into my hands and sobbed.

***

I jerked upright, already upset by the terrible dream.

"Ugh!" I groaned, tossing a pillow across the room. It didn't _matter _what he thought. I was going to prove him _wrong. _My stupid subconscious mind was going and making pictures of my fears, but it only served to strengthen my resolve.

I _would _be a great rancher. As great as Taro. Well, maybe not, but I could try. I tried to go back to sleep – it was only seven – but try as I might, I couldn't get comfortable again. I wondered if Vaughn would mind if I watched his TV for a moment, but I decided against it.

So I sat up and twiddled my thumbs, completely bored. I wondered what time Vaughn got up on Wednesdays. Didn't he have a separate job in the city? Surely coming to a remote Island twice a week wasn't enough to pay the bills.

I looked around for something that would amuse me. My eyes landed on the small end table beside the couch, and they zeroed in on a drawer than was closed three quarters of the way. It would be nosy and prying to snoop about in the drawer, but he'd done plenty of things to upset me – why couldn't I do something a little out of line?

Almost smugly, I reached out and pulled the drawer all the way open as quietly as I could. Only one thing was lying there. Another picture. Curiously, I reached inside and pulled it out, holding it up to the light streaming in from the window for a better look.

It was a picture of a young girl – fourteen, maybe fifteen. She had jet black hair, wide green eyes, and a smile on her lips. She was standing in some sort of park – I could make out swings and a flying Frisbee in the background.

All in all, she was a very pretty girl. I wondered why Vaughn would be hiding this in a drawer – why not put it out in the open, like the picture of Julia and Mirabelle? As I studied this girl more closely I realized her face, her features . . . they were familiar in a way I couldn't pinpoint.

I was so deeply absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't hear the door open; I didn't hear the footsteps coming down the hall; I _did_ hear, however, the slight gasp and cry of anger that followed it.

"What are you _doing?_"

My head snapped up to see Vaughn glaring down at me. I flinched and dropped the picture. He'd glared at me before – I specifically remembered it, coming off the boat the first time I met him. But this was different – he was enraged now.

I couldn't even begin to guess why, but nervousness clawed up my throat. He was actually a little frightening when he was truly angry. He snatched the picture and put it back in the drawer, shutting it all the way this time.

When he spoke again, his tone was harsh. "That drawer was closed for a _reason._"

"And what reason is that?" I asked, swallowing heavily.

His glare intensified. "None of your damn business, Chelsea."

He stomped into the kitchen then without any further explanation, and I was left stunned. Why did it matter so much if I'd found that picture? If he hated looking at it so much, why didn't he get rid of it in the first place?

Still, I felt a pang of regret – it was wrong to look at his private belongings. I stood and reluctantly made my way into the kitchen, where he was making toast.

His back was to me, and I could tell he was gritting his teeth.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Vaughn. I just saw it was partly open, and I . . ."

He didn't answer; the toast popped up, and he put the two pieces of bread on a little plate and buttered them. He turned and gestured for me to sit down. I did, and he set the plate down in front of me. I was surprised by the gesture – I _was_ hungry.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking a bite.

Another moment passed as he put more bread into the toaster. "I really am sorry," I said again. He sighed. "Let's just not talk about it, okay?" "Okay," I agreed softly.

I thanked him once more for allowing me to stay here – even after last night – once more before I left.

He shrugged. "It's fine," was all he muttered.

I went to my parents' house at noon – I knew they'd both be at work now – and collected my things, using the key under the flower pot to get in. I was a bit preoccupied with my thoughts through the whole thing, though.

When evening approached, I boarded the boat that led back to Sunshine Islands, and I was still thinking about this morning. Out of all my jumbled thoughts, one stuck one more than all the others.

Who was that girl in the picture?

**A/N: So, there will be drama in this fic, concerning:**

**Will**

**Mark**

**Original Character (one I make up)**

**Which would make you happiest? **


	4. Harvest Festival

_4: Harvest Festival _

Mirabelle, Natalie, Taro and Julia were all waiting at the dock when I got off the boat that night. I'd originally planned to stay in the city one more night – I wasn't sure how long it would take to gather all my belongings – but I came back early.

There was no way I could ask Vaughn to let me stay at his apartment again, especially after the previous incident. Questions were still bouncing around in my head, but thinking about them was pointless. It wasn't like I'd get answers anyway.

I couldn't ask Vaughn, I couldn't ask Julia, I couldn't ask Mirabelle . . . and I doubted anyone else on the Island knew.

I was probably getting worked up over nothing. Everybody has pictures in their houses; maybe he'd just placed it there until he found a better place to put it. Maybe the girl in the picture was nobody important at all.

But then I remembered what he'd said. _"That drawer was closed for a reason." _

And then when I'd asked him what that reason was – stupidly – he'd snapped, _"None of your damn business." _

So it wasn't nothing. It meant something to him. I also remembered what I'd had little time to ponder over before: thinking that the girl's features were vaguely familiar, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

_Thinking about it is pointless, _I reminded myself yet again. If I mused over it too much, I'd drive myself insane. And there were much bigger things to be considering now; my new life, for instance.

The desire to succeed was gnawing at me mercilessly, and I was eager to get started. A small part of me was annoyed because it knew most of my impatience came from simply wanting to prove Vaughn wrong. And that was stupid. Because I didn't care what he thought.

Did I?

I scowled to myself as I was walking towards the dock and the Island residents. This was _exactly _the sort of thing that wasn't supposed to happen – he wasn't supposed to get inside my head, to infuriate me and make me wonder about things that really weren't my business at all.

"Hi, Chelsea!" Julia said, happily throwing her arms around me.

I hugged her back for a moment, and then stepped away. I had my rucksack with me, but I also had a black shoulder back containing everything I'd gotten from my parents' house.

"You ready for lessons, girlie?" Taro asked, leaning on the gnarled old cane.

I nodded. "Yup."

"Follow me, then."

"Come by the Shop afterwards, Chelsea," Mirabelle said sweetly, "I'll make us lunch."

I thanked her and followed Taro to the old farm, where lessons would soon begin.

***

Though Taro knew a lot of things – and was a good teacher – it became apparent to me after approximately three minutes with him that he was also very bossy.

For the next week, I learned how to do a lot of things – how to properly till the land, how much water to give crops, and Denny was trying to teach me how to fish after I bought a fishing pole from the lumbering carpenter, Gannon.

I hung around Julia whenever I could, and sometimes Natalie as well. I gathered pretty fall flowers and gave them to my friends; they were the best thank you I could give for their kind welcome and wonderful offer. Both of them found sunstones over the course of the next week, and they immediately gave them to me.

Taro had given the sunstone he'd first shone me before I went back to the city, so I currently had three. I only needed a few more to raise Volcano Island. But I wasn't really raising this particular Island first under my own free will.

Regis had come looking for me on several occasions, asking that I raise it first.

"If there are riches here like my instincts tell me," said the creepy man, "you can bet they'll be on Volcano Island. Who knows what sort of valuable treasures are trapped within its depths?"

I'd shuddered and promised to get his Island first, if only to get away from him as soon as possible. But he'd been breathing down my neck for the past few days, dropping subtle hints about how I shouldn't change my mind.

I worked like mad this particular week; it was around the middle of Fall now and the crops needed more water than they would typically need during this season because of the abnormally high temperatures.

When I woke up on Monday, the first thing I had planned – after watering the crops, of course – was to go to Meadow Island and attempt to contact a Harvest Sprite. Taro had approached me once and told me that, if I went there, sometimes the little men would appear and offer helpful advice about where to find more sunstones.

I'd had difficulty resisting the urge to roll my eyes; I just didn't believe in Harvest Sprites, any more than I believed in the Harvest Goddess. Both of those things were just old folk tales made up to entertain the Islanders.

Still, I wanted to appease the old man, so I was going to try. I hurried up to Kirk and asked him to take me to my destination. When I arrived, I took a moment to simply walk around the huge, wide open space.

There had never been such an enormous clearing in the city – the land had numerous buildings, restaurants and condos everywhere. It was surprising enough if someone owned a backyard. The air was a bit to warm for my taste, but it was peaceful to walk around in the sun and listen to the waves of the ocean crash against the Island.

Finally, though, I allowed my eyes to focus on the beautiful white shrine set at the northernmost point of Meadow Island. Hesitantly, I approached it, looking around for a sign or something that would tell me how to summon Harvest Sprites.

My efforts were proved unnecessary, though, because, as I watched, a shape began to form before my eyes. One moment he was wasn't there, and the next, he was. The Harvest Sprite was dressed in bright blue clothes and a tall, pointed hat.

He smiled at me, flashing a set of brilliantly white baby teeth. I stumbled back, stunned. I'd expected this whole idea to be a complete waste of time, but apparently I was wrong.

Apparently Harvest Sprites _did _exist.

Or perhaps my mind had snapped from stress and I was suffering a delusion. I hoped desperately that it wasn't the latter. As I studied the little face closer, I saw that it was distinctly feminine. Long black eyelashes, small red lips, and little pink cheeks – it was a female Harvest Sprite.

"Good morning, Chelsea," she said nicely.

If I'd had any doubt about her gender from my observations, it was confirmed for me when she spoke – her voice was high and melodic, like a bell.

I managed to find my voice. "Um, hi."

"I'm Vi. What can I do for you today?" she asked professionally.

"Erm . . ." I looked away, embarrassed to be asking for information from a stranger. "I was told that you might know where I can find more sunstones," I mumbled.

She laughed sweetly. "Oh, of course. Check the bushes set between Chen's and Mirabelle's Shop. You might also look around the well in front of Gannon's home."

I blinked, surprised she'd told me so willingly and nicely. "Oh. Well . . . thanks." I turned and began walking away.

"Chelsea!" Vi called after me. I turned reluctantly.

"Yes?"

"Building friendships and getting close to the Islanders might help you as well. You never know when they'll find what you want," she said.

"Any one of them would give a sunstone to me right away, no matter how little they know about me. They know I'm just trying to raise the other Islands," I argued.

Vi chuckled and raised a delicate eyebrow. "They would, would they? Sunstones are very beautiful, Chelsea. What's the harm in keeping only one?"

I paused and considered what she was saying. "You're right," I admitted. I'd be tempted to keep one myself, if I wasn't so focused on my goal.

Vi nodded, satisfied. "See you. Perhaps when you raise Mystic Islands and meet the Harvest Goddess, my companions and I will be more inclined to show you where we live."

I shrugged. "Whatever you want," I said, put off by the mention of the Harvest Goddess. On that note, Vi smiled politely, and then disappeared into thin air.

As soon as I got back to Vendure Island, I began searching. First, I looked around the bushes between the Shops. I found a sunstone entangled in the roots of the third bush; I had to take a knife and cut it free.

But when I held in my hands at last, my smile stretched from ear to ear. I hurried to the well outside Gannon's house, sure I would find another treasure. And I did; the second sunstone was resting at the bottom of the bucket hanging inside the well.

Joyfully, I put the two new stones with the rest; I would raise Volcano Island in the morning.

***

I'd been foraging for many things and shipping them in the past week to make money. They were about half my income right now – the other half was the small fish I caught with Denny's assistance. I gathered wild herbs, chestnuts and sea urchins.

I also fashioned material stone and lumber from the branches and boulders that were lying around the Island without any apparent purpose. The money was good, and I if I kept it up and combined it with the money got from my crops, it would be enough to work with, enough to start a ranch with.

I was going to buy a chicken coop first – chickens were the easiest livestock to care for, and it didn't cost much to feed them if you had a little fence to let them outside. Yes, I liked to think I was doing well, especially after only one week.

One of the disadvantages to shipping everything edible, however, was that I grew hungry often, and I didn't want to use my money to buy things from the Café or the Diner. I never allowed the hunger to get so bad I passed out or get painful, but still . . .

On this particular Monday afternoon, my stomach was twisting and growling at me, demanding I eat something. I ate a small wild herb I'd saved, but it did nothing but wet my appetite.

Grudgingly, I admitted to myself that I'd have to ask Julia for food again. Honestly, I hated asking anybody to do anything for me, but if I went much longer without a meal, I wouldn't be able to think straight.

Mirabelle wasn't behind the counter when I went into the Animal Shop, and there was a divine smell coming from the kitchen. I heard two voices coming from there, and when I heard the second, I froze.

"Vaughn, can't you stay this one time? You're never on the Islands when all the _good _festivals happen," Julia was saying persuasively.

"I'm around often enough," Vaughn's voice grumbled back.

My stomach twisted again, but this time it had nothing to do with hunger. Flashes of our previous meeting went through my head, along with the same questions I'd been ignoring for the past week.

It was amazing how simply hearing his voice could bring on such a reaction.

"But the Harvest Festival will be so fun," Julia whined, "Pierre is bringing some special spices to make it even better than it was last year."

"No, Julia. I have other business to take care of that day anyway," Vaughn snapped.

I almost turned around and walked back out, but the hunger wouldn't let me. So, I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen with my head held high.

"Hi, Julia," I said nicely, ignoring the urge to let my eyes flash over to where he sat at the small square table.

It irritated my how tempting the idea was. He'd been so cruel on the boat – just thinking about the words was enough to madden me. I wondered idly if I'd always experience such conflicting emotions every time I saw him.

Julia's cheerful voice broke through my reverie. "Hey, Chelsea. Did you find any new sunstones?"

I smiled widely. "Two new ones. I'm going to raise Volcano Island tomorrow."

"Why Volcano Island?" Julia wondered, carrying the pot of boiling noodles over to the sink, and then dumping them into a colander.

"If I raise the Island he wants, Regis will stop bugging me," I mumbled, shuddering slightly.

Julia laughed. "Regis is harmless, you know. A little disconcerting, I'll admit, but . . ." She shrugged.

I shrugged, too, and looked away, mumbling "Sure" under my breath.

Just then, Mirabelle walked into the kitchen with a happy grin. "Good afternoon, Chelsea. Staying for lunch?"

I blushed slightly and stared at my shoes, losing my nerve. "No . . . it's alright . . ."

"Nonsense, you'll stay. Julia always makes too much food anyway." Mirabelle laughed and sat down beside her nephew; Vaughn was staring at the window, but he must have felt my eyes on him, because he glanced my way.

I was surprised to see that he didn't look truly irritated; merely curious. Of what? I wondered to myself. I dared to stare at him for just a few moments, marveling yet again what an odd and beautiful color his eyes were.

Finally, though, I had to look away, because Mirabelle was motioning for me to sit by her.

"I made spaghetti," Julia announced, setting down the plates.

I began eating a bit sooner and faster than necessary, but I couldn't help it. None of the others commented on my table manners, to my relief.

"Mom," Julia said, sitting down between Vaughn and myself, "I was asking my dear cousin if he'd stay on the Islands the day of the Harvest Festival. It's going to be extra delicious this year, because of Pierre's new spices. But he keeps saying no."

"Oh really?" Mirabelle asked, smirking at her nephew.

Vaughn sighed heavily. "I have things to do that day, Mirabelle."

"That's all you ever do, Vaughn – work, work, work," Julia complained, "Loosen up once in a while."

He didn't answer.

"I think it would be good for you, dear. Please do stay with us," his Aunt asked sweetly.

"I _can't._"

"Your boss will understand – he thinks you're a workaholic, too. He'd be delighted if you took a day off to do something enjoyable," Mirabelle insisted, "If you stay this time, I won't ask again, I promise."

Vaughn's eyes instantly narrowed suspiciously. "Never again?"

Mirabelle chuckled. "Never again, dear," she assured.

He nodded once, and went back to eating.

"Sabrina will be there," said Julia softly.

Vaughn looked deep in thought for a minute, but then he shrugged and looked uninterested again. My mind went into overdrive without my permission. Sabrina? As in, Regis' daughter, the shy girl with black hair and glasses? I leaned back in my chair, frowning slightly.

Was he with her?

Or was Julia just attempting to play matchmaker?

I tried to picture the two of them together; kissing, holding hands, smiling and laughing, the way a normal couple does. The very idea of Vaughn laughing in itself was difficult to picture, but picturing him laughing with someone else was even harder.

Especially Sabrina.

As far as I could tell, she was a shy, respectful girl who obeyed her father's every wish. No, the two of them didn't belong together. They just didn't. Still, I found myself wondering if they _were_ together, if something _would _happen . . . but of course, there was that one familiar question too, one that I often asked myself whenever Vaughn was around.

_Why do I care? _

_***_

The pot that was placed in the exact center of Meadow Island on the day of the Harvest Festival was something to see. I didn't even know a pot could be so _big. _Everyone had brought something nice along with them to contribute to the stew, and the aroma coming from it was almost intoxicating.

I myself had simply purchased some buckwheat noodles from the Diner and was carrying them with me in little Styrofoam boxes. Pierre had made good on his promise; the spices he brought were very rare, he said, and they tasted absolutely heavenly.

Everyone I knew on these Islands was gathered around the pot, eyeing it hungrily.

Vaughn, I noticed, was sitting next to his Aunt and his cousin, looking bored. Soon after the buckwheat noodles slid into the pot, Taro announced that it was time to begin. Everyone got a good-sized bowl, and it was filled by Felicia with a bright red ladle.

I wanted to sit by Julia, but the presence of her cousin would fluster me, no doubt. Just as I was turning away, though, she saw me. "Chelsea! Come over here!"

I walked over to them, managing a smile.

"Eat with us," Julia commanded, patting the grass next to her.

"It'll be evening soon, and the temperature will go down, so eating here will be more comfortable," Mirabelle commented, sipping the broth of the stew.

I sat in between Vaughn and Julia, and it was impossible not to be aware of him, sitting so close, silently as usual.

"Did you say hello to Sabrina, Vaughn?" Julia prodded gently.

"Yes," he replied curtly.

Julia sighed and moved the vegetables around in her bowl, obviously discouraged. As evening drew closer and everyone was going to get seconds, Pierre came around with a large bottle of red wine.

A few people accepted – Vaughn among them – and when the child-like chef asked me, I shrugged. "Sure."

Vaughn's eyes were instantly on my face. "You old enough?" he asked.

I bristled and snapped, "Yes, I'm _old _enough. I'm twenty one."

Pierre waited through our little exchange, before shrugging and giving me a tall pretty glass with the red wine inside.

Vaughn's gaze lingered on me disapprovingly. "Doesn't take much of that stuff to get someone like you drunk, you know," he said.

I pursed my lips. "Even if I did, it wouldn't be your business, now would it?" I wanted to say something hurtful, but I doubted there was anything I could say that would affect him as deeply as his words on the boat had affected me.

This fact irritated me beyond belief. I began to sip the wine. It didn't taste as bad as I thought it would.

Natalie came over to where we sat and made small talk, dropping her voice whenever she spoke of Pierre, almost shouting when she talked about how clumsy her brother was.

"He's not that bad, Natalie," Julia defended, "Elliot is actually very cute."

Natalie almost chocked on her stew. "To each his own, I guess," she mumbled.

I offered my opinion occasionally, and they listened to everything I had to say, but as I took more and more sips from my glass, my mind began to feel fuzzy, so I spoke less often.

Vaughn stared out the ocean a lot, but every so often his gaze flickered over to me, his expression almost worried. By the time I was finished with this very tall glass, it was as if a haze had settled over my brain. I wasn't thinking clearly at all.

So after everyone had cleaned up and Taro told everyone to head home for the night, I had to replay his words in my head for a few minutes before I grasped what they meant. Julia had gone had gone off early with Elliot, and Mirabelle was on the other side of the Island, laughing with Felicia and Chen.

The fog was so thick – it was almost as if I was half-asleep. Vaughn got to his feet and brushed off his clothes, sighing when he looked at me.

"Feel okay?" he asked.

"Of course I do," I snapped, but the words came out slurred and funny. I got to my feet slowly, staggering slightly.

He smirked. "Walk in a straight line," he challenged.

I blinked, and took a step forward. How was I supposed to walk straight when my brain seemed to be disconnected from my body? After about four steps, I thought I was doing pretty well…but then somehow my right foot tripped over my left and I fell to the ground with a loud _thump._

I blinked again and saw someone standing above me. I saw several of that person at once before the images came together to make one picture.

"Can you . . ." Vaughn sighed. "Can you make it home?"

"Yes," I garbled.

I got to my feet again and managed to make it to the bridge. Lethargically, I trudged forward, in the bridge's general direction. Somehow my feet took me to the Island's edge rather than my destination; my foot came down on empty air and I was falling forward, towards the ocean. I felt an arm around my waist, jerking me back.

Disoriented by the suddenness, I leaned backward, against whoever had caught me.

Vaughn supported my weight for a moment before sighing again. "Come on – let's get you home."

I felt his hands under the backs of my knees, under my shoulders, and I didn't even try to resist him picking me up. I didn't want to walk anymore. He attempted to carry me with his arms outstretched, but it was too much weight, so he grudgingly held me against his chest. I sighed and allowed my head to rest on him.

Some small part of my mind that was still sane wondered what the other Islanders would make of Vaughn carrying me away from the Harvest Festival, but decided that it really didn't matter. He carried me all the way home, even holding me to him while Kirk took us to Vendure Island.

As we began walking towards my land from there, passing Pierre's house, I thought about how nice-looking he was, especially in this light. I found myself wondering what it might be like to kiss him. I didn't even stop to tell myself to stop thinking about it, because it was pointless. I simply didn't have the energy.

So I was fantasizing when something occurred to me. I _was _drunk (like he'd predicted I would be, I added sourly), so I wasn't really accountable for my actions at this point, was I? I could at least kiss his throat, or his jaw, and claim to remember nothing about it in the morning.

But we were in front of my farmhouse now, so I never got the chance. He opened the door without even asking, moving forward in the dark, possibly looking for a light switch. Lazily my hand reached out and managed to turn on a lamp after a minute of fumbling.

He placed me on the bed and stepped back, burying his hands in his pockets and biting his lip.

I forced myself to sit up, and to form whole sentences. "See, Vaughn? You can do something nice for other people sometimes . . . I bet you're not as big of a jerk as you seem." Despite my efforts, the words were still garbled.

A slight blush darkened his cheeks, and he seemed to be looking everywhere but at me. "Go to sleep, Chelsea," he sighed, beginning to turn.

"Wait," I breathed, "Thanks. I woulda ended up in an ocean, if you weren't around."

He shrugged and placed a hand on the doorknob, muttering "you're welcome".

I was very aware of the soft, comfortable mattress I was on; the haze in my mind seemed to be growing thicker and thicker with every passing second. I was so close to simply passing out . . . my question came out unclear and indistinctly, but I think it was enough for him to understand.

"Vaughn . . . who was that girl in the picture? Was she i-important to . . . you?"

Emotion flashed through his eyes briefly before he pulled out that infuriatingly familiar indifferent mask. I'd been quick enough, however – amazingly – to see exactly what that emotion was.

Pain.

He stared at me for a long moment, possibly waiting for me to pass out so he wouldn't have to reply. My eyelids drooped and shut without my permission. He switched off the lamp. Just before I slipped into the sweet relief of unconsciousness, though, I heard his voice, soft and broken in the darkness.

"Yes."

**A/N: I've decided to use Will. His personality is perfect for the type of drama I have in mind ;). Even though he brings about…problems in this story, he won't be portrayed as a bad guy. I do actually like him in SI. (Just not more than Vaughn, Shea and Denny. XD)**


	5. Contemplation

_5: Contemplation _

My recollection of the previous evening was slim. I could remember the main parts, but details were indistinct. For a few minutes, I only remembered making small talk with Julia and Natalie before it all went black.

I had a major headache – whenever I moved my head, it felt like tiny needles were piercing my skull. I was also slightly nauseated. I pursed my lips and leaned back onto the pillow, groaning softly. Was this a hangover? It felt horrible.

_Never again, _I mumbled to myself, _I will never drink ever, ever again._

It was easier to ignore the queasiness when I focused on other things, so I really tried to unearth the details of last night. For all I knew, I'd done something very stupid or make a complete fool of myself. I froze at this particular thought and gnawed on my lips.

But then I remembered.

"Vaughn . . ." I said his name out loud, my voice almost awed. He'd carried me back home when I was practically handicapped.

He'd sat me down on the bed and let himself out. It amazed me that he'd done something _nice _for me. Didn't he hate me? His glares and spiteful words made me think so. But maybe there _was_ a human being hiding behind his indifferent front.

What had I said to him when he'd brought me home?

Had I at least thanked him?

I tried so hard to remember, but it just wasn't coming back to me. _It's Monday, _I mused idly, _I'll probably see him again today . . ._

But what could I say? "Vaughn, did I say anything particularly foolish or idiotic to you last night?"

No, I simply wasn't comfortable enough around him to ask that sort of thing. _And you never will be, _a small voice whispered in the back of my mind. I was surprised to find that a small part of me was sad as I realized this. Now _that _was foolish.

Thankfully, most of the nausea had faded by early afternoon. But the painful headache still remained; it felt as if someone was attempting to drive a nail into my temple. Still, I'd promised myself that I would raise Volcano Island today.

So I got dressed, albeit sluggishly, and tied my red bandanna into my hair. Rain was falling heavily and the sky held a thick layer of heavy, dark clouds. The gloomy weather seemed to match my sour mood.

I walked swiftly to the boat, praying no one would stop and want to talk to me.

Kirk's greeting was the standard: "Good morning, Chelsea. How are you today?"

I gave him my usual answer, though it was a lie today. "Fine."

"Meadow Island?" he asked.

_Where else? _I grumbled in my head. "Yes."

The rain was truly bucketing down from the sky by the time we reached Meadow Island; it was difficult to see five feet in front of my nose. I got off the boat and walked, staring at the ground, trying to avoid water dripping into my eyes.

I didn't expect anyone else to be here – really, who would be stupid enough to hang out here and risk getting a cold (besides me)? So that was why I didn't even see him until I walked into him. I stumbled backwards a few steps, praying I wouldn't lose my footing and go tumbling into the sea – I was in no shape for physical exertion.

He glanced up at me; one silver eyebrow rose in question. The wide brim of his hat protected his amethyst eyes from the pouring rain. "What are you doing here?" he asked disapprovingly.

I wanted to jut my chin out defiantly at him, but that would only blind me. So I settled for an annoyed frown. "I could ask you the same thing."

He shrugged and stared off into the rolling waves. "I like it here."

"Why?" I asked, perhaps a little too eagerly.

But he surprised me with an actual answer. "It's the only good thing about coming here – the wide open space. It's too cramped in the city."

I blinked. "You don't like these Islands?"

He shrugged. "No, not really."

It was silent for several long moments after that.

Suddenly, though, he looked up. His expression was wickedly amused. "Hopefully it won't become part of my job to baby sit you like last night."

My temper flared, and I glowered. "You didn't have to do anything for me last night."

He snorted. "You probably would have drowned."

"Not that it would matter much to you," I muttered to myself.

His reply was so quiet I wondered if he'd meant for me to hear it. "It might."

Another silence fell over us as I pondered this response. Finally though, he repeated, "So, what _are _you doing here?"

"I'm raising Volcano Island," I said promptly, proudly. And then, just because I couldn't help myself: "Raising Islands is part of the process of becoming a great rancher and making this place great again. I'm going to do it. I know I can."

He shrugged and didn't meet my gaze. "We'll see."

Well, at least he wasn't arguing with me. Maybe I'd convinced him in the past week that I was really working hard at this and it wasn't just a way to kill time until I found something better. Maybe, once he realized this, he'd respect me a little more.

Maybe . . .

I shook my head slightly before turning and heading towards the shrine. I was surprised when I heard his heavy footsteps behind me, but I didn't turn. I walked right up to the shrine, sunstones in hand. It only took a minute for the shape to form before my eyes.

Vi smiled up at me, looking exactly the same as before. "Good morning, Chelsea," she said, a little too happily for my mood. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'd like to raise Volcano Island, please," I replied, trying to sound cheerful.

Vaughn was standing right next to me; he raised an eyebrow. "Who are you talking to?"

His tone was obviously questioning my sanity.

I looked to Vi for answers. She laughed. "You're the only one who can see us, Chelsea. That's how it's supposed to be."

I shrugged and continued, ignoring Vaughn entirely. "Well, here you go." I gave her the warm red stones.

She counted them and then grinned up at me. "Good job," she complimented me before disappearing into thin air.

I blinked, confused. Wasn't she supposed to raise the Island? I stood there for a moment, wondering if I'd been scammed.

"You didn't see her at all?" I murmured to Vaughn.

"Who?" he asked, irritated now.

I chuckled, happy to finally get under his skin the way he could get under mine. And then the shaking began. It was exactly like an earthquake; the ground shook violently, and I nearly fell. Whirling around and squinting into the distance, I could make out the shape of something enormous rising just south of Vendure Island.

For a moment, I was entranced by the sheer power of what I was seeing. But then the ground jerked so roughly I _did _fall, throwing my hands out instinctively to catch myself. I only had seconds to react before I felt a staggering amount of weight being thrown on me; the air whooshed from my lungs.

The ground shook violently for a few more seconds before it stopped completely, but I was unable to enjoy that because the weight was still on me.

Vaughn rolled onto his back with a groan. "That hurt."

"It wasn't exactly peachy for me either," I snapped, struggling to breath normally again.

I heard him chuckle softly as I got to my feet, and it irritated me deeply. I distracted myself by focusing on the new Island in the distance; it was exceedingly small, with one lone mountain, lava seeping from the top and collecting in a small crater in the ground. It looked very dangerous and very beautiful at the same time.

"Isn't it cool?" I mumbled.

"It's alright," he answered, getting slowly to his feet.

"I'm going over to explore it," I said, a bit delighted by the fact that I'd get to do something outside my normal routine today.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the distant Island. "It looks dangerous."

I shrugged. "Regis is probably right – there's a bunch of hidden jewels inside the volcano. It'll help me a lot with the whole money situation."

"You could really hurt yourself in there, you know." His voice was nonchalant as I would expect, but there was just a hint of something else, and I could quite pinpoint what it was.

"I'm going," I sighed, beginning to walk toward the boat.

He caught my arm. "Maybe I'll go, too."

I frowned in disapproval, though on the inside my heart constricted, and then sped up. "I don't need you to. I don't want you to," I insisted, trying desperately to remember his glares and harsh words. But I couldn't quite call them to mind. All I could focus on was that he had been kind last night, that he had secrets I was dying to know, and that he was very attractive.

"I'm not coming _with _you," he retorted, "I want to look at the new Island, too."

"You just said it looked dangerous," I grumbled.

He shrugged. "So?"

We began walking towards the boat together.

"Stalker," I mumbled with a small smile, remembering the day I met him, how I'd accused myself of being the very same thing. He didn't reply, but he was smirking the whole way there.

"Alright, maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I allowed.

We'd explored this tiny Island briefly, though the only things to look at were the mountain, lava, and some rocks. The entrance to the dark cave was in plain sight; it had been me who'd wanted to venture inside.

The light from outside filtered in through the entrance, but still, everything about this place screamed eerie.

"Careful," Vaughn said, "There could be pitfalls in here."

"Pitfalls?" I asked, swallowing heavily. "As in, deep dark holes we could fall down?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Then I'll be careful." I was a few feet ahead of him, and I wondered idly if he'd be able to jerk me back in time before I fell to my death.

He reached out and placed a hand on my arm, and I swallowed again, though this time it had nothing to do with fear of falling. "Chelsea, let's go back."

I didn't disagree with him this time. "Yeah. Let's go." I watched my every step on the way out, pressing down on the ground with my foot to see if it would take my weight. When we finally got back outside, I was very relieved.

"That was terrifying," I laughed.

"Very," he agreed.

"I wonder why people get enjoyment out of mining?" I wondered.

"Adrenaline?" he suggested.

I shrugged. "Maybe."

We moved over to the dock together. "So, uh…thanks for coming with me," I said softly.

He raised an eyebrow arrogantly. "I didn't come _with _you, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Thanks anyway."

He sighed, his eyes flashing as his expression became serious again. "You're welcome."

Knots were beginning to form in my stomach under his gaze, so I quickly climbed on the boat and waited for him to do the same.

"I suppose it would be nice," I said, shrugging.

"So you'll come? It'll be awesome, I promise," Julia gushed.

It was Thursday now, and I was sitting at the table in the Animal Shop with Vaughn's optimistic cousin, and some tea. She'd invited me to a party she was going to host down at the beach next Monday; she wanted to enjoy the high temperature one more time before the cold weather set in.

"Winter is always the hardest time of year around here, you know?" Julia sighed, frowning. "So it'll be good for everyone to have some fun before the gloom settles over us."

I smiled. "Yes, definitely. Why is the party Monday, though?" I couldn't help but ask.

Julia blushed and fidgeted with the tablecloth. "Well, honestly, Chelsea, I want my cousin to be there, too. It might do him good to be in a situation where you have to be slightly social, you know?"

I shrugged, highly doubting it. "Maybe."

"And" – She lowered her voice, as if someone might be listening – "Maybe I can get him to talk to Sabrina. I mean, I haven't seen any real interaction between them, but she's quiet and intelligent, just like him." Julia seemed proud of her observations; her smile was huge. "I think they'd be good for each other."

My throat tightened and I looked away, hoping she couldn't read my eyes. Conflicting emotions rose up inside me so quickly it was almost overwhelming. Things weren't exactly . . . _good _with me and Vaughn, but I liked to think it was better than before.

He wasn't polite, he was still rude and moody, but there were still moments, like the night of the Harvest Festival . . . like when he came with me to Volcano Island . . . like how he made me feel when I looked into his eyes . . .

But, as usual, my practical side contradicted me.

Nothing could ever happen. He was too secretive and sullen. A small part of me wondered, though, what it would be like to see him _happy. _I'd seen him smirk, and I'd seen him chuckle, but I'd never seen him truly smile or laugh.

"Chelsea?" Julia snapped her fingers in front of my face.

"Hey!"

I snapped out of my reverie and looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, Jules."

"What happened? I was talking and all of sudden you got this far-off look in your eyes . . ."

I shook my head. "It's nothing, Julia. I was just trying to calculate how much longer I have to wait before I have enough money to buy a chicken coop." As usual, a lie came to me pretty easily.

She stood and put her tea cup in the sink. "You can't just zone out when I'm talking, Chelsea – it's rude. Don't you think they'd be good together? My cousin and Sabrina?"

This next lie was much more difficult to say.

"Yeah."

The very next day, I was heading to Sprout Island, looking for Julia, when I ran into someone I'd never seen before. My eyebrows pulled together in confusion as I took in the beautiful white horse walking towards me, and the equally attractive rider upon it. His smile was huge by the time he'd approached me.

"That's a magnificent horse," I said, awed.

"Why, thank you very much. Let me dismount and we shall be introduced properly." The man slid down from the horse's back, and then came to stand in front of me.

His blonde hair was a bit on the messy side, but it looked like it was supposed to be that way. It fell over his eyes slightly – they were a bright, startling shade of blue. Altogether, a very pretty face.

He bowed slightly and grinned. He told me his name.

And it was, without a doubt, the _longest _name in history. He must've said at least eight names strung together, and afterwards, he allowed me to stare for a few seconds with a completely blank expression.

Then he laughed loudly and added, "No worries. You may call me Will."

I was relieved I wouldn't have to memorize what he'd said. I probably would have come up with a nickname anyway. "I'm Chelsea," I told him, "I'm hoping to start a ranch here, and raise a few Islands."

I hoped he knew a thing or two about sunstones – otherwise I probably sounded like a crazy person.

Will didn't question it, though – he merely continued to smile. "It is wonderful to meet you, Chelsea." And then, surprisingly, he reached down, took my hand, and kissed my knuckles softly.

A blush colored my cheeks before he dropped it. "So, what brings you to Sunshine Islands?" I asked quickly.

"My father wanted me to see the world. I've taken quite a fancy to these Islands – they charm me immensely."

I could see almost instantly that he spoke a bit oddly, as if from another time. I found it to be both weird and fascinating.

"As fate would have it," he continued, "I have a family member living here."

I couldn't think of a single soul here who resembled him remotely. "Who?"

"Regis is my Uncle," said Will.

_Well, _I thought, _that would explain the fancy white clothes and the huge ship I see in the distance. _

"Oh. Will you be staying long?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Perhaps I will. I've seen nothing that makes me wish to go." Behind him, the horse whinnied.

Will turned to it with a fond look in his eyes. "Arthur, I will miss you so."

"The horse is leaving?" My voice was sad.

"Yes. I simply do not have room for him here. I must depart now – I've arranged for someone to come pick him up." Will stroked Arthur's neck.

But before he turned to go, he said one more thing. "Chelsea, I enjoyed speaking with you. Perhaps you would dine with me sometime?"

I blinked, unprepared for his offer. He seemed nice, and he was probably very rich as well. Almost like a prince, complete with a valiant white horse. I smiled slightly to myself at the thought. And just a short time ago, I would have accepted his invitation eagerly, but now I couldn't bring myself to.

And I most certainly knew why.

"Maybe," I allowed.

Will grinned once more before leaving me outside Regis and Sabrina's great mansion.

By the time Monday arrived, I had almost completely forgotten about Julia's party. But after she showed up at my doorstep bright and early that morning, I remembered pretty quickly

"What exactly is everyone going to do?" I wondered aloud.

"Swim, eat, chat – just hang out." Her tone implied that it should be obvious.

I shrugged. "Okay."

"I've told everyone to be there by noon. It'll be fun, Chelsea – you'll see." Julia clapped her hands together once merrily.

I bit my lip and stared out the window, trying desperately to refrain asking what I wanted to. But curiosity got the better of me and I asked anyway. "Julia, is Vaughn coming?"

She looked surprised at the question. "Yes, he agreed to, after some persuasion. You know what's weird, though?"

I shook my head.

"He asked me the strangest thing when I invited him. He asked me if _you _were going to be there." Julia sounded truly puzzled. "Is something going on between you two?"

My eyes widened in shock. He'd asked if I would be at the party? Why? Did he want to see me? Little butterflies tightened my throat as I considered that idea. I wanted to see him. I didn't even bother trying to ignore that fact now. It was pointless. It was stupid and irrational, but . . .

Julia was still waiting for an answer to her question. Fearing my silence would give her the wrong impression, I said quickly, "No."

She nodded and laughed softly. "Of course not. It was stupid of me to ask. Nothing would ever happen."

My eyebrows shot up. It was very obvious to me why her statement was true, but why did _she _believe that? "What makes you think that?" My voice was sharper that I meant it to be.

"Well, I know you don't like him. And, to be honest, I didn't think he liked you." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why? Do you _want _something to happen?"

I turned, pretending to look around in my fridge. "No. I don't even know him."

I heard Julia sigh, but I didn't meet her eyes. "I hope you're telling me the truth, Chelsea, because . . . Vaughn's really not in a good place right now."

I turned, interested now. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "It's not my place to say. I'll just tell you that . . . some things happened in the past that . . . messed him up a bit."

I bit the inside of my cheek, and when I spoke again, my voice was weak. "He seems pretty sane to me."

Julia chuckled. "He's not crazy, Chelsea. I didn't mean messed up like _that. _He's just . . . well, you know. Moody and anti-social."

"A lot of people are like that," I argued, "It doesn't mean anything is wrong with them."

"He's just got a lot of issues. That's all I'm saying. His personality isn't the way it is for no reason." Julia wouldn't meet my eyes.

Frustration welled up inside me. "I wish you'd just tell me. You know I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

She gave me a sad little smile. "I know. But if he ever found out that I told you, he'd have my head." She chuckled softly, "And anyway, it feels wrong, telling someone else's story."

I sighed. "Fine, then."

Julia put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Chelsea. But I don't understand why you want to know. Honestly, I thought you hated him."

"I thought I did, too," I whispered, "But now Julia . . . I'm not so sure."

"Well, I hope everything works out for you." I could tell that she wanted to say more. I could see the curiosity burning in her eyes. But Julia wasn't one to interfere in other people's lives. I respected her for that.

Still, I wished that there was more that she could say to help me. I wished she wasn't so respectful; I wanted her to tell me everything that had happened in the past.

So my small smile was a bit rueful. "Me, too."

Julia smiled gently and turned to leave.

Something occurred to me. "Jules?"

She turned curiously. "Hmm?"

"I thought you were trying to make something happen with Vaughn and Sabrina."

"I was. But he called me a few days ago and asked – well, _told _me – to stop. He says he doesn't want me to keep meddling, and that he's not really into her."

"That's exactly what he said?" I murmured.

"Yes . . . why does it matter?"

I feigned indifference. "It doesn't – just asked."

Her expression of skepticism said she didn't believe me. But she said no more about it and then turned to leave.

Julia and Elliot arrived at my house around eleven thirty to walk me to the beach.

"I'm perfectly capable of escorting myself, you know," I said sourly.

Elliot shrugged. "We can leave, if you want."

Julia rolled her eyes. "Don't be a baby. You can be my co-hostess."

I shrugged. "Okay."

The three of us were silent on the short walk to Sprout Island. Elliot looked a bit uncomfortable by this, but Julia seemed to realized that I was deep in thought and wasn't in the mood for trivial chitchat. I'd been thinking about what she'd said before much more than I should. He'd said that he didn't have much interest in _Sabrina. _

Did that mean what I thought it meant? Or was I reading too much into things? I wasn't sure. I knew Julia wouldn't lie to me – if she said had he issues, he probably did. Were they the kind of issues that someone never healed from, or the kind that were healed with time? My mind was almost exhausted with these questions.

Maybe, if I got to know him better, I could help him fix whatever his problem was. Maybe, after the ice was broken, so to speak, he would be kind and considerate like I knew he could be. Or maybe not. Perhaps these ideas would blow up in my face.

There was really only one way to find out.


	6. Foolish Hope

_6: Foolish Hope _

We were the first ones to arrive at the beach.

"Why'd you make me come so early?" I complained.

Julia sighed heavily. "Chelsea, the hostess has to be at the part first. Obviously."

I swallowed, staring out at the waves. I knew I'd have to repress my mood and try to be happy for Julia. She deserved it. So when I looked over her decorations, I tried to be eagerly enthusiastic.

There was a lot a food set up on a very long table. There was a fancy stereo. There was a volleyball net I'd never seen before set up outside Denny's house. Everything was very simple, but that's just how it was on these Islands.

Simple. Nothing too overly-done or extravagant. This was one of the things that separated us from city life, and I was proud of it.

I turned back to Julia with a large smile that wasn't even fake. "Everything looks perfect, Julia."

She beamed. "Do you really think so? I had a bit of help. Lanna loaned us her stereo – she might sing a song for us later – Pierre made a bunch of food, and Denny gave us the net."

"Yeah – we worked pretty hard to make sure everyone has fun today." Elliot said thoughtfully.

I went around and helped Julia make a few last minute preparations before people started arriving. Denny came first with Lanna, then Taro's family, then Eliza and Charlie, then Chen and Mirabelle, then Sabrina (Regis was too busy working on Volcano Island to come. Surprise, surprise.).

Gannon, Lily and Will arrived about fifteen minutes after the party started – Denny had already gotten a bunch of people to play in a volleyball game. Almost everyone had arrived in bathing suits because it was a hot day and a swim would be a nice way to cool off – I wore my suit under my clothes.

Eliza wanted to sit out of the volleyball game, so Charlie seemed focused entirely on impressing her, but it was difficult because everyone on his team was a lot taller than him, so he rarely got to hit. I felt a bit sorry for him.

My eyes scanned the guests, looking for who I wanted to see. But he wasn't here. I bit my lip, disappointed.

Will hurried up to us, looking at Julia remorsefully. "I do apologize for my lack of punctuality, Julia. Uncle kept me behind to examine a rather priceless gem."

His voice held distaste, so I assumed that his interest in ore was very low.

Julia smiled at him politely. "That's alright, Will."

His eyes fell on me; they brightened almost immediately with happiness. "Chelsea, how marvelous to see you," he said, though I'd seen him yesterday.

He'd continued to ask me over the past few days if I would have dinner with him, but I'd always declined, never really sure why. It just . . . didn't feel _right_, even if it was just one simple dinner. It was stupid and illogical to feel that way. Will was exactly the type of guy my parents would approve of, mostly for his money. And I would be lying if I said I didn't think he was charming and handsome – he was.

Still . . .

He was still waiting for an answer to his greeting.

I managed a smile. "Yes, it's good to see you, too, Will."

His eyes danced. "Lanna will be turning the stereo on later this evening. Perhaps we could dance together?"

I blinked, unprepared for his unexpected offer. "Oh . . . um . . . sure." I shrugged.

His smile was huge. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles like he had when we first met before turning to mingle with the other Islanders.

"Julia forced you to come, too, didn't she?" said a familiar voice from behind me.

I whirled, and my heart sped up when I met his amethyst eyes. But I recovered quickly, and when I spoke again, my voice was haughty. "No, she did not _force _me to come. Unlike some people, I have no issues when it comes to interacting with other human beings."

Vaughn shrugged and muttered "of course not" under his breath.

"It's nice to see you," I admitted to him quietly. "I didn't think you'd actually come."

"Julia's not above holding a gun to my head and forcing me. I didn't want it to come to that, so I agreed quickly." He snorted. "I won't stay for long. I've got work to do." He only wore the black button down and black jeans – even so, he must be hot in this weather.

"What exactly do you do for Mirabelle?" I wondered.

He shrugged. "I help take care of the animals, and there's a bunch of very boring paperwork."

"But you like your job?" I asked.

He met my eyes, and his voice was very sincere. "I would never do anything else."

"Hmm. You must really love animals."

"I do," he agreed, "They're easier to be around than people."

"I can't say I agree to that. But they're nice enough to be around. I used to have a dog when I was growing up named Muffin. I always talked to him about my problems when I was angry with my parents. Is that weird?" Something told me he wouldn't think so.

He shook his head. "No, not really."

"Did you ever have any weird habits like that when you were growing up?" I inquired, purposely asking something of him that was just a bit private.

He bristled instantly, growing wary and snappish. "That's not really your business."

I sighed and looked away. Making small talk with him was much easier these days, but I touched on something even the slightest bit personal, it was like he threw up a wall. An awkward silence fell over us.

"I should probably get back," he said after a minute.

"You just got here," I protested.

He shrugged.

"I heard that." Julia walked up to us, her expression disapproving. "You're not going anywhere yet, Vaughn. The party has only just begun."

He frowned. "Yes, Mom."

She made a face at him before turning to me. "So what were you talking to William the Prince about? I think he really likes you." Her tone was bordering on too eager. She was probably remembering our conversation this morning and desperately trying to steer me in another direction. Her eyes were a bit pleading.

I shrugged. "Maybe."

Vaughn snorted very quietly, and I looked up, both curious and annoyed. But when I met his eyes, his expression was unfathomable.

"Come join the volleyball game," Julia encouraged, "You played really well in high school." She started pulling me towards the net without waiting for an answer.

Vaughn followed us, and then sat down on the sidelines of the game in a beach chair someone had thought to bring.

"Which team am I on?" I asked, trying to keep the gloom from my voice.

"Come join my team, milady. I'm afraid my volleyball skills are sorely lacking." Will called with a warm smile.

Julia gave me a small push in his general direction; I grimaced at her quickly before going to stand next to him. At first I played very weakly, missing the shots, hitting the net when it was my turn to serve; just general stuff that should have been easy. I hadn't played in a long time.

And it most certainly didn't help that Vaughn was watching with what I assumed was critical eyes. I couldn't be sure though – he was very good at hiding his emotions. But as I got more and more into it, my old skills resurfaced – we won five out of seven games.

After the game, a few people went swimming. Though the idea sounded appealing, I decided to hang back and make a small dinner for myself from the little buffet table Pierre had worked hard to make. I wondered idly for a moment if Vaughn would like something, but I had no idea what to get.

So I poured some wine into a cup and went to sit by him.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw the glass. "Didn't you learn your lesson the first time?"

I resisted the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. Instead, I said nonchalantly, "It was actually for you. But I'm not so sure I want to give it to you now."

He snorted and pulled it out of my hand. "Thanks."

I shrugged and began eating a strange – but delicious – soup I'd never seen before. "I wasn't sure what else you'd want."

After a minute of silence, I assumed he wasn't going to answer me. But finally, he admitted, "I like porridge."

I blinked and giggled quietly.

"What?" His voice was defensive.

"Isn't that a bit . . . old-fashioned and fairy tale-ish?" I asked.

"I like it," he insisted. I was beyond surprised when he asked quietly, "What do _you_ like?"

"My mom used to make this awesome carrot cake for me occasionally," I mused, "I always enjoyed that."

"Carrots." He spat the word like a curse.

"You don't like carrots?" I asked, surprised.

"They're revolting." Vaughn shuddered.

I laughed quietly. "You wouldn't be the biggest fan of my garden this season, then."

One silver eyebrow rose in question. "How's that going for you?" His tone had an edge of steel in it now. "The crops, the sunstones, the . . . new life?"

I tensed almost instantly, wondering if he would repeat his opinion of my capabilities, like he had on the boat ride to the city. "Fine," I snapped harshly, "Everything is going according to plan."

"Of course."

The sarcasm in his tone infuriated me. "If you're going to be a jerk this evening, then maybe I should leave."

He sighed, staring out at the waves and the darkening sky. "Maybe you should."

I set aside my plate, not even caring about it anymore. I got to my feet. But there was one more thing I wanted to say. "You know, most of the time you're pretty decent to me. But then, out of nowhere, you just . . ." I didn't finish. "And I wish you'd stop. Or at least tell me why."

At first I thought he wasn't going to answer. He merely stared with very serious eyes. And, as always, my stomach twisted into knots under his gaze and I longed to touch his face. But then he stood and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I just . . . didn't have the greatest first impression of you. And I don't understand why you keep talking to me."

My eyebrows rose in surprise, and my voice was sharp. "Should I stop doing that?"

"I just don't understand," he repeated. "Most people on these Islands avoid me."

"I wonder why." It was _my_ turn to be sarcastic. "It's not like you give off a 'screw you' vibe or anything."

"Why should I talk to them?" he snapped. "It's not like I have any business with any of them, aside from Mirabelle and Julia."

"Politeness, Vaughn. Friendliness. Sociability. All good reasons to associate with others." I sighed, and got back to my original point. "If my company bothers you so much, I'll leave you alone," I said, ignoring the slight twist in my stomach as I spoke.

He looked annoyed. "That's not exactly what I mean. I . . ." He seemed to be struggling to find words. "I don't mean to piss you off or be a jerk. Sometimes it just happens."

"Friendliness would be a lot easier if you were just a little _happier_, you know," I said softly.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Probably."

I could see that I'd hit a nerve, so I didn't press him any further. When another silence fell over us, his eyes seemed bleak and grim. I really hated the expression. For a minute, I simply stared out at the waves, wondering what he was thinking about.

When I looked up again, I was attempting to smile. "We don't have to speak anymore if you don't want to."

"You want to know something weird? I do . . . want to talk to you." When he'd realized he'd said something slightly nice, he was quick to add, "Sometimes."

I nodded, like this was the most logical answer in the world. "Friends?" I asked simply, ignoring my dissatisfaction with the word. Everyone had to start somewhere. He blinked and contemplated that for a minute. But then he smiled wryly.

"Alright."

* * *

The rest of the party passed by in a bit of a blur. I went over my conversation with Vaughn a million times in my head, trying to understand exactly what had happened. The main thing, the most important thing, was that we were _friends. _

And just accomplishment that had been draining mentally and emotionally. Still . . . this small achievement felt like a small victory. I was making progress with him, or so I hoped. Lanna actually did sing for us.

I had to admit, she had a lovely voice, and lots of people began dancing in the sunset – Pierre with Natalie, Eliza with Charlie, Will with Lily, Mark with Sabrina . . . Julia stood next to me, eyeing Elliot, who stood in the distance, talking with his grandfather about something.

I nudged her. "Well, go on."

She took a step toward him, but then hesitated. "Who will you dance with?"

I restrained my eyes from flickered to where they wanted to. "I don't know, Jules. I'm a little tired – maybe I'll head home."

"No, no," she insisted, "Lanna is almost done with this song. Will should be free soon."

"Julia," I said severely, "Maybe you enjoy playing matchmaker with all your friends and relatives, but I'd appreciate it if you left this one alone."

"Chelsea," she sighed in exasperation, "Don't you _see _how perfect he is? He's a prince, and he's rich, but he's not a snob like most people would be. He's actually rather modest, and very polite."

"I know," I admitted, "I do like him."

"Go dance with him, then."

I was about to give in when I heard Vaughn's voice behind me. "I'm leaving now, Julia." I turned to see him looking at his cousin.

She smiled warmly. "Thanks so much for gracing us with your presence, cousin."

He half-smiled at her, and my heart squeezed a little.

Lanna's song ended and she bowed when the Islanders cheered for her. "Now I think I'll sing" – she began to say.

"Aw, come on, Lanna – let's just use the stereo now. You gonna abandon me all night?" Denny asked playfully.

Lanna rolled her eyes and then wrapped her arms around Denny fondly. "Oh, alright."

The station they switched it to played slow love songs, and I could see Julia just itching to move over to where Elliot stood. She mumbled some sort of lame goodbye and hurried over to him.

When I turned back to Vaughn, I had a very brief picture in my mind of dancing with him. But of course he wouldn't like that. "Goodnight," I sighed, barely disguising my disappointed tone.

Instead a goodbye, however, his eyes flicked over to all the dancing couples before they settled on my face again. "You dance?" he asked suddenly. My heart missed a beat as I considered what he might ask.

But then he looked over my shoulder and pursed his lips.

Will came up and took my hand. "May I have this dance, fair maiden?"

I blinked at the unfamiliar word; I have to look it up later. It suddenly came back to me that I'd agreed to dance with him earlier today. When I looked over at Vaughn, he was shaking his head slightly, but he wasn't looking at either of us.

Will noticed the little silence. "Oh . . . I do hope I wasn't interrupting?"

Vaughn blinked and shook his head quickly. "No, of course not."

He nodded at me. "Goodnight, Chelsea."

I half-smiled. "Good night, Vaughn."

* * *

When I got up the next morning, I made my customary black coffee and sat down at the table to drink it in peace. My mind drifted back to last night. Dancing with Will was quite the experience – he'd obviously had lessons before and was twirling me around merrily. I'd very much enjoyed it, though I was slightly annoyed with him for his bad timing.

Still, most of me didn't really believe Vaughn would have ever asked me to dance, so it was a moot point. After I'd gotten home, I'd gotten out a little dictionary and looked up the word 'maiden' because I was still curious about what it meant. It means 'a girl' or 'a young, unmarried woman'. Huh.

Odd thing to call a person.

I left the house around eight, headed straight for Gannon's house in a cheerful mood. This was the day I was finally going to begin a ranch for real, because I had enough money to purchase a chicken coop. I'd figured out that I actually saved more money if I bought the necessary materials from Gannon rather than pay full price.

The job required 150 pieces of lumber ($7500), and the actual building part cost me another $5000. Someone could definitely get rich off the whole carpeting thing. I gave Gannon the money cheerfully, and he promised to have it done by tomorrow. Afterwards, I headed to Mirabelle's Shop because, honestly, I had no idea how to care for a chicken.

But Mirabelle would know. Or Julia. Or…Vaughn. The Shop had the warmest, sweetest smell when I got inside; I hurried to the kitchen. Julia was making cinnamon rolls.

"I will be your servant for life if you give me one of those," I said.

She laughed. "They look pretty good, huh?"

She put one on a plate and slid it over to me before taking one for herself.

"So, guess what?" I said, all happily.

"Mmm?" she asked, her mouth full.

"Gannon's building me a chicken coop. I finally got the money."

"That's awesome, Chelsea." Julia nodded in approval. "Do you know much about chickens?"

"No," I admitted, "I was hoping you'd tell."

She then recited to me all she knew about chickens; there were a lot more facts to know that I would have guessed. "We have a bunch of little chicks in the back. Obviously, you can't take it home now, but you could pick one out today, if you want."

I smiled widely. "That would be cool."

"Vaughn's back there, too," she said, studying my face for some sort of reaction.

I kept my expression indifferent. "Huh."

Satisfied, she went back to eating. I stood and went to the back room when I was finished. Vaughn was putting fodder in a feeder for a tiny lamb.

"That's so sweet," I cooed to it.

He whirled, frowning in surprise. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"I wasn't," I insisted, still studying the little lamb.

"I'm going to have one of those someday," I said, "And I'll name her Lacey or Lucy. What's this one's name?"

"We don't name them," Vaughn said, "Because when someone buys them, they name it."

I shrugged. "That makes sense. Could you show me the chicks?"

He took me to their little pen willingly enough. It was only after I'd been examining them for a few minutes that he murmured, "Why?"

"Gannon's going to build a coop for me," I said, "And Julia said I could pick one out."

He was instantly wary. "You know anything about them?"

"She told me everything I should know. It won't be dead within the first week," I sighed, recalling him saying those very words the first day I met him.

He grimaced and avoided his eyes; this reaction pleased me. Was he ashamed of what he'd said?

I picked out a tiny ball of yellow fuzz and held it to my chest, cooing softly. "I want this one," I said.

"Are you sure you know everything you need to?" His voice was so reluctant.

"_Yes_," I snapped. I set the little chick back down and stood. "If I don't see you before you go, have a nice week." My voice was warm. This was a perfectly friendish thing to say.

He nodded once and got back to work.

Gannon had the chicken coop finished the very next day, just like he'd promised.

I admired his work for a long time before complimenting him. "Thanks so much. It's great!"

"Thanks," Gannon said gruffly, embarrassed.

He'd only been gone a few minutes before the door flew open again and Taro walked inside. "Looks pretty good, girlie. Here's something to get you started." He held up a fuzzy chick, identical to the one I'd looked at yesterday.

I smiled widely. "Thanks, but you didn't have to do that – I already got one from Mirabelle's."

He shrugged and set the chicken down. "Well, now you'll have two. It's the start of a prosperous ranch." His tone was approving.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I really hope so, Taro."

Mirabelle gave me the other little chick that afternoon. I purchased several pieces of bird feed and then went back to the coop. After feeding them, I decided to name them. Celia and Muffy.

Perfect.

* * *

Several weeks passed. In the first few days of winter, the temperature changed drastically from abnormally high temperatures to abnormally low temperatures. Everyone on the Island swore to me that the weather was not normally so extreme.

Julia had been right when she'd once told me that winter was the most difficult time of the year. I could no longer forage, and branches and rocks were much harder to find buried beneath the snow. I couldn't harvest crops this season – I could only stock up on seeds for when spring arrived.

The only real ways to make money were to fish and mine. Volcano Island was still a place I tended to avoid, so I relied heavily on fishing. Whenever I came across something I thought another villager would like, I gave it to them.

After some time, more people found and gave me sunstones; I was going to raise Mystic Islands soon. Who knew what sort of things would be there? The only complaint I had about this new life was that it was somewhat boring.

I fell into a daily routine that never seemed to end as the season went on; I counted down the days for spring to come. The other Islanders seemed to have the same problem; they wondered around the Island in boredom constantly.

Will sought me out a few more times and flirted shamelessly, but I always declined his offers. With some barely concealed sadness, he'd conceded to my wishes and accepted that I just wanted to be friends. The topics of our discussions now were always relatively harmless.

Mostly.

Life was less stressful without that particular thing to worry about. The only two days I seemed to be happier than normal were the ones you might expect: Monday and Tuesday. It seemed like our declaration to be friends at the beach party had not diminished.

Whenever I saw Vaughn, we could always make small talk. Most of the time it was nice. Occasionally I got those little sarcastic remarks that always drove me mad. But he apologized most of the time, so I didn't make a big deal out of it.

Things were going pretty well. I still felt a bit sour whenever I thought about our _friend _status. But, to be honest, I didn't see how we could ever be anything more.

And though the idea made me sadder than I cared to admit, I was beginning to accept that.

* * *

It was a Monday in early winter when disaster struck.

It began as a normal day; I awoke with a nice cup of coffee, and the optimism in my thoughts that was only brought about by two days of the week. I went to feed my chicks before heading down to the Animal Shop, where I met Julia, Mirabelle and Vaughn for breakfast. Afterwards, I was gone for most of the day; Denny had promised to teach me a few new fishing techniques.

We finished by the time it was starting to get dark. I tried to come up with an excuse to go into the Animal Shop and see him one more time before the day came to an end. I sighed and made myself walk on by.

I liked to check on my chickens once before I went into my farmhouse for the night – perhaps it was a product of paranoia. But what I found on this day was horrifying. The first thing I noticed about the coop when I approached was that the door was slightly ajar. Dread tightened my throat.

I froze, my mind instantly going back to this morning. I couldn't remember shutting the door. Why couldn't I remember? I yanked the door open fully and went inside. My worst fears were realized; I found Celia inside, but Muffy was nowhere to be seen. Tears were stinging in my eyes before I went outside to search.

I knew what I would find. The small bits of fuzz and blots of blood littering the grass were a tell-tale enough sign. I stumbled back to my farmhouse and sobbed quietly for several hours, wondering to myself how I could have been so irresponsible.

I had no excuses. Regret welled up inside me and brought with it a fresh torrent of tears. What would the others think? Would they believe that this was simply the beginning of a string of failures and deaths? I hoped they wouldn't. I hoped that they were understanding enough to forgive me for my mistake. Something told me they would – they were good, compassionate people I could rely on, like family.

Sometime during the night, exhaustion overtook me and I fell asleep, plagued by nightmares of regret.

* * *

I was sitting quietly at my kitchen table the next morning, still feeling like a black cloud hung over my head, when I heard a loud knock on my door. Numbly, I stood and went to answer without bothering to ask who it was. I literally could have been knocked over with a feather when found myself staring up at a pair of devastatingly familiar amethyst eyes.

Vaughn stared down at the ground and bit his lip in embarrassment.

"Um, hi," I managed.

"Hi," he said back, still avoiding my gaze.

I broke the silence before it could grow uncomfortable. "Was there something you . . . wanted?" My tone was a bit reproving, but in truth, I couldn't be happier he was here, reason be damned.

Finally, he looked up. His voiced rushed through the sentence so quickly I had to take a minute to decipher it. "It's nice out today – want to go somewhere?"

I blinked. "You want to take me somewhere?"

He shrugged and sighed. "Friends do that, don't they?"

"Yes," I mused, "Friends do things together. I just didn't think . . ." I trailed off.

_I didn't think you actually liked me at all. _

"Do you want to go or not?" he grumbled.

My smile was pathetically wide. "Okay. I just have to . . ." My breath caught in my throat.

"What?"

I gestured to the coop.

"Oh." He nodded.

I began walking slowly, desperately praying he wouldn't follow. Out of all the people who could know about last night's incident, he was the last person I would tell. Wouldn't it just prove him right about me not being able to accomplish this enormous task I'd taken on? Wouldn't he be revolted and swear never to speak to me again?

And things had started out so well today. I still found it mind-boggling that he'd come here at all, presumably to do something.

With me.

Perhaps he enjoyed my company more than he let on? But this new-found friendliness would soon be lost once he found out. Why must life be so incredibly cruel? And of course, I heard him following behind me.

"I heard that Taro gave you a chick, too," he said abruptly.

I wanted to cry right there and then. We'd reached the door of the coop now. "I did have two . . ." I mumbled, wondering if he'd pick up on the past tense.

"_Did_?"

I could picture his eyes narrowing. "Did," I whispered, going inside and heading over to the feed dispenser, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

The silence was piercing as I put the bird food in a feeder for Celia. When I was done with that, I had nowhere to look but at him.

His expression was just as I'd expected it to be. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was twisted into a contemptuous frown. "What happened?" His voice was very low.

I swallowed heavily breathed deeply. I wanted to be calm, to explain this logically and rationally. But of course a few tears slid down my cheeks as recalled last night yet again. I told him everything in a shaky voice, wiping the moisture from my cheeks as I spoke.

When I was finished, his jaw clenched in anger. "This is _exactly _what I thought would happen," he snapped, "You're completely incapable of running a ranch."

Rage quickly replaced the sadness. "It was a mistake – don't you think I feel horribly about it? It won't happen again." The volume of my voice surprised me.

"I was right before – dead within the week," he growled.

I gritted my teeth. He had every right to be a bit disappointed in me, but this reaction was way too harsh. When I glared at him again, the hate radiating off me could have rivaled what I'd felt on the first day I'd met him. And that was really saying something.

"Get out," I snapped, "Stay away from me for a while."

"Gladly." Vaughn shot me one last glower before whirling and storming off out of the coop.

I watched out the window until his retreating figure was not longer visible. I stayed inside for a long time, sinking to the ground and staring at the wall blankly. I was still about ten thousand miles beyond furious.

Nothing would have pleased me more to go find him and throttle him. But a small part of me wondered what exactly would have happened today if last night's horrid event had not occurred. Where would we have gone? What would we have talked about? Would he have smiled? For a moment, I was almost crushed by sadness, realizing what I had missed.

I wondered if he would always remember this incident. He didn't seem to be the type who let go of grudges easily. Still, if I'd had to have that awful conversation all over again, I wouldn't have said anything different. I'd said it wouldn't happen again, I'd said I felt like bad . . . what else could I have said? It wasn't like I had magical powers that could bring a dead chicken back to life.

So I sat in the chicken coop for a few hours, tormented by conflicting emotions.

* * *

Another two weeks passed by. I wondered if perhaps Vaughn would get over it and apologize to me, the way he sometimes did for insensitive comments. But honestly I couldn't say I was surprised when he didn't.

I wasn't the least bit shocked when he ignored me completely. It wasn't that he glared or said vicious things; he simply didn't acknowledge my existence. Once, when I was in the Animal Shop, on the pretense of wanting to see Julia, I met his eyes, but it was like he was looking straight through me.

I would also be lying if I said that this reaction didn't hurt – back when we were friends, I was dissatisfied, wanting to be more. But I would take our small, petty conversations any day over this. I tried to hide my feelings of gloominess as much as possible, but sometimes I would slip, looking out the window of where I was and sighing heavily.

This did not escape Julia's notice.

"Chelsea, what's with you lately? You're not still upset about Muffy, are you?" She asked on the Sunday of the second week.

Julia and Mirabelle had been sympathetic and forgiving after I'd explained my mistake to them. I shook my head, only partially lying. "No, Julia. I'm just a little tired."

I suspected she knew I wasn't telling the truth but, as usual, she didn't press. The more time I spent with Julia reminded me why she'd been my very best friend in high school.

As I lay in bed that night, I decided I would have to confront Vaughn sooner or later, if only for closure. I had to know if he was going to ignore me forever. If he told me flatly that he no longer wished to speak to me, then I could be prepared and I wouldn't be so crushed whenever he acted like I wasn't there.

So after I fed Celia and wrapped myself in a heavy winter coat and pulling up the hood – because it was raining – I set out for the Animal Shop. When I got there however, all I found was Mirabelle and Julia.

Julia must have noticed me scanning her home continuously because she sighed and said lowly, "He's not here."

I blinked and bit my lip. Apparently, my efforts at being discreet were futile. Still, I decided to play dumb. "Who?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Like you weren't looking around for my cousin just now."

I sighed. "Fine. Where is he?"

Julia had been pretty satisfied last week when Vaughn avoided me, and that I'd made no attempt to strike up a conversation. But now that I wanted to speak with him again, her eyes were worried. "He likes to go to Meadow Island when it rains," she mumbled unwillingly.

"Thanks." I turned and began walking away. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, however, I looked over my shoulder and called her name.

Julia looked up from the book she'd been reading. "Yes?"

"I just want to talk to him," I said, "That's all."

She nodded slowly before going back to reading.

I walked briskly down to where I knew Kirk waited with his boat. "Meadow Island, please," I said, getting onboard.

He took me there after his usual "good morning".

When I arrived at the dock, I could make out a figure through the light rain on the other side of the tiny Island. But when I heard someone call my name, it wasn't the voice I wanted to hear.

"Chelsea!"

I turned.

Will was hurrying toward me, presumably coming from the shrine. I smiled slightly, genuinely. His enthusiasm was difficult to resist. When he reached me, his smile was very wide.

"Good morning, Will," I said politely.

He grimaced playfully. "I should say not. Uncle woke me up at the most ungodly hour to examine a stone that was apparently of great value."

I chuckled at the disdain in his voice.

I glanced to the left and saw something surprising. Vaughn – the figure on the other side of the Island - had turned slightly, and, though he tried to make it seem like he wasn't, his gaze was fixed on the two of us, his lips pursed in a tight line. I wasn't sure if this pleased or confused me. Both, I decided.

I wanted to go over and speak to him, but Will was still waiting for an answer. I turned back to the polite, blue-eyed prince. "I take it you don't care much for the mining industry?" I asked.

Will smiled and began walking towards the shrine again. I began to follow him slowly, biting my lip. Just one more minute, I told myself.

"No, honestly, I couldn't care less for jewels. Uncle admires them for their beauty and their value, but I prefer simpler things."

"Like?" I asked.

We'd stopped in front of the shrine now. "Oh, things like this" – he gestured to a blue flower – "or that" – he gestured to the ancient old shrine – "make me happy. Uncle doesn't understand my fascination with such things, and I hate to disappoint him, but . . ." He frowned sadly.

"Poor little rich boy; having to sit at home and study his pretty gems. Such torture," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Will smiled. "Yes, I suppose that's what it sounds like, doesn't it? Please forgive my complaints."

"It's alright." I shrugged. "I think living with Regis would be a bit much for anyone at times."

"He can be a bit preposterous occasionally," Will agreed.

We laughed softly together in the rain for a minute. When I focused on his face again, his eyes were wistful.

"I enjoy your company so much, Chelsea. It saddens me greatly that you continue to refuse my offers of an evening meal."

I sighed. It was bordering on impossible now to have a conversation with Will without this subject coming up at least once. "I confuse myself as to why I say no," I said, chuckling without humor.

It wasn't the like I could be with the person I wanted with. Well, wanted to be with _most _of time. When I didn't feel like killing him. So why shouldn't I agree to a simple date?

"If you ever change your mind . . ." Will trailed off.

I smiled sadly. "You'll be the first to know."

"Shall I bid you goodbye? You seem a tad restless," he commented.

Indeed I was. I was eager to achieve my original purpose for coming here. Will have me his customary kiss on the knuckles before saying goodbye. I turned and began walking away. But I'd only taken a few steps before I stopped and looked around the mostly empty Island in shock.

Vaughn was gone.

**A/N: I'm aware that the whole a-chicken-dies-Vaughn-gets-pissed thing is very cliché in V/C fics, and I've put off doing it for a long time. But it's kind of vital to the story, so . . . **

**Also, I'll be gone on vacation for two weeks, without access to a computer, starting Friday. Sorry :(**


	7. Haunted

_7: Haunted_

Several _more _weeks passed. During this time, I barely saw Vaughn at all. Apparently, he'd taken the concept of avoiding me and taken it to the next level. At least before, when he'd barely spoken a word to me, he could stand being in my presence.

But now I barely saw him.

Every time I went to the Animal Shop, he would be out, or he would be in his room. He stopped going to Meadow Island when it rained; he barely went outside at all. After three weeks, irritation seemed to be my favored emotion. Even when I was happy about something, it hung over me like a black cloud, threatening to burst and rain heavily down on me at any time. This whole thing was bordering on ridiculous.

Why would watching a small exchange between Will and I have any sort of affect on his behavior? Had it offended him in some way?

I tried to comprehend why it would, but I came up blank. I would probably never understand him, and I gave myself a headache trying to. What made it worse was that Julia was merrier than usual; she skipped around whistled or hummed constantly.

She told me it was because of Elliot, but I suspected the real reason was that I'd begun talking to Will on a daily basis now. I never sought him out exactly, but most of the time I was running around the Islands, getting work done. It wasn't really a big deal – I ran into everyone who lived here every day.

There were only so many places they could be.

We continued to talk about little things – sometimes I listened to his rants about Regis's mining obsession, sometimes I listened to stories of things he and his cousin Sabrina had done as children, or sometimes I was the one to talk. He listened to everything I had to say with interest, like it was vital information or something.

He was always polite and thoughtful, and a few times I actually tried to force myself to be attracted to him, to imagine some sort of romantic future. But I couldn't. Every time I tried, the image morphed without my permission and Will became someone else.

Someone who probably now considered me to be the scum of the Earth.

Julia never tried to pressure me into anything, but I could see the eagerness in her eyes whenever I talked to her about Will. I knew she was just trying to protect both Vaughn and me, but a small part of me couldn't help but resent her for it.

I was still set on confronting Vaughn if he ever decided to grace me with his presence again, but, at the moment, it didn't seem likely that would happen anytime soon. On the brighter side of the past three weeks, I'd gotten another chicken and almost had enough money for a barn. I was also planning on raising Mystic Islands sometime very soon.

I only needed one more sunstone. I'd purchased a little Tool Box, a larger refrigerator and a medium-sized rucksack. After I had Gannon build a barn and possibly get a calf, I planned on expanding my house. I didn't need anything extravagant like Regis's mansion, of course, but I was buying more furniture and rapidly running out of room. Things were progressing at a nice speed in the way of ranch-building and island-raising.

So not everything, thankfully, was bad.

One Tuesday evening in mid-winter, Julia invited me over to her house for dinner. I was thankful – spending money at the Diner or the Café really sucked the life out of my profits, now that I could no longer forage.

When I sat down at the table, only Julia and her mother sat down with me. I didn't even bother to ask where Vaughn was; presumably, he was back in his room, like he always was when I came around. Mirabelle made polite small talk with me and her daughter during the meal, but my answers were usually curt.

I could understand avoiding me – sort of – but skipping dinner and hiding in his room? Wasn't that a bit extreme? Frustration, confusion, hurt and sadness consumed me. Mirabelle seemed to the grasp that I wasn't in the mood for conversations because she only spoke to Julia after a few minutes.

I managed to compliment her on her cooking and thank her for having me over, because it was the proper thing to do, but the words sounded more like a growl than gratitude. When we were cleaning up the table, Julia happened to glance out the window.

"Chelsea, look at that," she said, jutting her chin out to gesture.

I followed her gaze and frowned. Snow was coming down heavily and the wind was becoming so brutal I could see a few bushes writhe and twist violently.

"Taro told us a blizzard was coming," Mirabelle mumbled, "I didn't expect that it would come so soon, though."

Julia smiled at me widely. "Sleepover," she giggled.

I smiled back halfheartedly. "You're not painting my toenails."

She made a face. "Fine."

"We have a tiny guest bedroom in the back," Mirabelle told me, "I'm sure you'll be comfortable there for the night."

I nodded. "Alright. Julia, I'm really tired. I think I'll turn in early tonight."

Her expression of disappointment was so severe I considered changing my mind. Almost.

"Are you sure? We can talk about boys."

"I'd rather not listen to you go on and on about Elliot," I groaned.

"I do not go on and on," she huffed.

I poked her arm and chuckled. "Sure you do."

"Well, that's just because he's cute and sweet and perfect." Her voice was so loving.

I wondered briefly if I would ever speak of someone with that tone. "And nerdy," I added.

She poked me right back. "Go to bed, grouch."

"I am not a grouch," I retorted, though I _had _been a grouch for the past few weeks. I said goodnight to Mirabelle and Julia once more before I turned and headed to their bathroom to get ready for bed.

Julia loaned me a pair of pajama bottoms when I got out so I wouldn't be sleeping in jeans. Most of the doors in the little hall were wide open, but there was one that was firmly shut. I had no trouble figuring out who was behind it; I grimaced.

When I went into the guest bedroom – it was about the size of a pocket – I closed the door and went to sit on the little bed. I could heard snow and raining nearly slapping against the window, but I was used to it; it had rained like this a few times last season and the city I lived in was known for its precipitation.

I attempted to make myself comfortable in the bed and drift into a peaceful sleep, but I was restless. I tried everything to tire myself out. I counted sheep in my head. I got up and ran around the room a few times.

But the restlessness refused to diminish. I thought about going into Vaughn's room and confronting him, the way I'd planned to do weeks ago when I ran into Will near the shrine. But it was late, and I didn't have the energy to deal with the argument that was sure to break out.

I thought of one more sleep-inducing idea, but it involved taking milk from Julia's kitchen. I sighed, promising in my head to return it when I got a cow, and started for the refrigerator. I poured some milk into a little pot and heated it on the stove (there was no microwave). After I drank it, I actually did feel a little drowsy.

Satisfied, I turned and began trudging to my door. I had to walk past Vaughn's door to get to mine and, even in the limited glow the hallway nightlight emitted; I could tell that it was slightly ajar. Peering into the room before I could stop myself, I saw that a small light was on next to the bed, and a few of his belongings were strewn around messily, but Julia's cousin was nowhere to be seen.

There was a professional-looking desk next to a large closet door. On this desk were numerous different papers, pens and pencils. Aside from that, though, there was also two gold picture frames – I couldn't make out the pictures because the desk was on the other side of the room from the lamp, in the shadows.

Frustrated by my lack of sight, I debated for only a second about getting closer. It was probably a stupid idea; he would probably be back any minute, and looking at his things when he was already angry with me would most likely bring on a fresh wave of rage. But I couldn't help it. I was too curious and nosy.

So I pushed the door open further, praying it wouldn't creak. It didn't. Mirabelle and Julia took good care of their little home. Slowly, cautiously, I approached his desk, biting my lip and trying to stifle the ball of nervousness in my stomach. I had seen both of these pictures before. The first was a picture of Mirabelle and Julia standing outside a house with wide smiles.

And the second was the one that had nearly haunted my thoughts for several days before I decided to stop thinking about it completely.

The girl in the park with thick black hair and bright green eyes.

And, just like before, it occurred to me that there was something familiar about her features.

"Are you always so nosy, or do I bring it out in you?"

My heart skipped a beat and my throat tightened, recognizing the voice instantly. I had been caught looking at the pictures. Serious déjà vu. Before I turned to face him, I thought about the tone of his voice. Vaughn didn't sound angry, really. Disapproval, irritation, and a bit of exasperation . . . these emotions were evident, but no fury, like I'd expected.

So I wasn't quite as nervous as I might have been when I turned to face him. My breath caught in my throat again, but this time it had nothing to do with fear or apprehension. He wasn't wearing a shirt. I swallowed heavily, and my eyes began examining him without my conscious permission.

He had a very nice body, presumably from all the manual labor he did. My gaze must have lingered on his muscles a bit too long, because he cleared his throat and I had to look up. I did not normally blush in embarrassment, but I was sure I was exceedingly red now. When I finally forced myself to meet his eyes, his expression was unfathomable.

It occurred to me that he was still waiting for an answer to his question. "Um . . ." was the first thing I could think of to say.

Vaughn sighed and frowned slightly. "Why'd you come in here, Chelsea?"

My name on his lips was like music. I searched for a lie. "I don't know," I said lamely. I was a bit annoyed with myself; deception was usually so easy for me. But the fact that he was half-naked wasn't helping my thought process.

"Really? You don't know?"

I didn't blame him for being skeptical. I struggled to find words. After a few minutes, I grudgingly accepted the fact that I would have to tell him the truth. "I saw the pictures on your desk. They're the same ones in your apartment."

Some emotion flashed in his eyes, but he was quick to cover it, as per usual. "Yes. So?"

I could tell by his tone that he was trying to stay calm. Why? He had every right to be snappy with me for coming in here uninvited. But I was grateful for this nice, albeit fake, serenity.

I decided to push my luck. "It's nice that you have a picture of your Aunt and your cousin. But who is the girl in the second picture?"

Just this simple question shattered the illusion of peace. He glared and gritted his teeth. "Leave, Chelsea. You're too damn meddlesome for your own good."

Aw. I understood now why he'd been so calm before – he'd been hoping that if he acted like my prying was no big deal, I wouldn't be so curious about the girl in the second picture. But I wouldn't be distracted so easily. "Why do you get so angry whenever I mention her?" I asked, ignoring his previous demand.

"Why won't you quit bothering me about it?" he growled. His amethyst eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim light.

My gaze fell to the floor. "I'm curious," I admitted.

"It's not your business."

"I still want to know." I looked up him, and when I spoke again, my voice was pleading. "I wouldn't tell anyone, you know, if it's a secret or something. It's been bugging me ever since I got back to the Island after I stayed with you. I think I asked you about her the night of the Harvest Festival, but I don't remember what you said."

It was true. After a little while, I vaguely remembered asking him, though my alcohol-induced fog, about the picture. He'd given an answer. What was it?

Vaughn sighed heavily in exasperation. He closed his eyes for a minute. When he opened them again, they were confused. "I don't understand you, Chelsea. All the other Islanders avoid me and don't pester me; that's the way I like it to be. But you . . ." He trailed off. "You just don't give up."

I smiled slightly without any real amusement. "I'm determined when I want to be."

"Yeah," he agreed, "It's irritating."

But he was smiling at me a little as he said this, and my heart warmed in my chest. Slowly, he moved past me, stopping in front of the desk. He reached out and picked up the picture of the mysterious girl. He stared at it for quite some time, a mixture of pain and some other emotion I rarely saw in his face.

_Love. _

I wished I could freeze time like this forever, and capture the expression. But of course I couldn't do that. So I just watched him until he sighed deeply and put the picture back down. A long silence fell over us, and I searched for a way to break it.

Finally, I said, "Something about her seems familiar, but I'm almost certain I've never seen her before."

He finally looked up at me. "Really? Most people don't notice the similarities."

I bit the inside of my cheek in aggravation. But if I wanted information out of him, getting angry wasn't going to help. I wasn't sure what else to say. For a while, I listened to the snow and the wind outside, looking for words.

Unable to come up with anything particularly persuasive, I told him, "I know you probably don't see me as the best person to confide in, but . . . I want to know."

He frowned slightly. "_Why_?" he repeated, sounding truly perplexed.

What could I say? That I wanted to know him better? That I wanted to help him get over whatever his problem was? That I . . . liked him? Much more than I should. None of these questions seemed to be appropriate, so I avoided what he asked and made my voice very soft.

"Please."

He sighed again, and then sat down in the chair next to the desk, giving in. "My sister," he said, gesturing with his chin to the girl in the second picture.

I blinked in surprise and was silent. My eyes flickered wildly for a minute between Vaughn and the photo. And suddenly I realized why this nameless girl looked somewhat familiar. The shape of her eyes, the high cheekbones . . . she looked like Vaughn.

Though of course the eyes and the hair were completely different, the features on the face were very much alike. I wondered why I hadn't seen it before. It was a relief to finally have an answer, to know a tiny about this girl, but I was baffled as to why admitting it was his sister was so difficult for him.

He chuckled grimly. "I'm surprised Julia hasn't told you everything already."

I was quick to defend my friend. "Julia didn't tell my anything – she said that it wasn't her business, and she kept quiet even though I pestered her about it sometimes."

"Hmm. How . . . out of character." His tone was still bleak, but there was also a hint of fondness now. I wasn't sure if he was trying to distract me, but if he was, he was in for disappointment.

"Why didn't you just tell me who she was when I first asked you? I mean, I don't have any siblings. But if I did, I don't think I've have problems telling people about them," I said truthfully.

He sighed and looked out the window, into the storm. "I don't like to talk about her," he said.

"Oh. Why?" I pressed, knowing he wouldn't answer.

When I met his gaze again, he seemed to contemplating. Perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to tell me. I wanted to tell him that he could tell me anything he wanted, and that I would try my best not to judge. I tried very hard to come up with reasons why he _should _tell me, but I came up blank again.

"Trust me," I pleaded finally, smiling very slightly.

He blinked, as if this was the last thing he'd expected me to say. But it seemed to break the ice. "Some things happened in the past that makes it hard to think of her," he said slowly, "Or anyone else in my immediate family, for that matter."

"Besides Julia and Mirabelle," I added.

Vaughn shrugged and sat down in the chair next to the desk. He closed his eyes. "Yes, besides them," he agreed softly. When his eyes opened again, they were resolved.

"My sister's name was Marissa," he told me, his voice somewhere far away.

"Was?" It didn't really surprise me that he'd used past tense. Judging by the way he spoke of her, I'd assumed that she was deceased.

"Yeah. She's dead now," he said matter-of-factly, "She has been for seven years."

"Oh," I murmured, wanting to comfort him, but unsure how. It wasn't like I could hug him or anything. And I was afraid that if I said the wrong thing, he would realize what he telling me, kick me out of his room, and become even more distant than before. It wouldn't surprise me if the last thing happened after this conversation.

"How did that happen?"

He wouldn't meet my gaze as he spoke again. "You'd have to know the background story to understand that."

I ignored the frustration beginning to twist my stomach. "And that is . . . ?"

Vaughn eyed me warily. "Don't go blabbing this to other people," he said darkly, "Or you'll regret it."

I overlooked his threat and made my voice almost loving. "Of course not. I'd never do that to you." It was true. I would never do anything to hurt him intentionally. He must have heard the honesty in my voice, because a bit of the cautiousness melted away and became relief.

"Alright." He took a deep breath. "My father died when I was younger, about fourteen. It killed my mother emotionally, and it was very difficult for her to support my sister and I, because her apathetic attitude towards life made her an undesirable employee in the professional world." He rolled his eyes, no sympathy in his tone.

"But then, when I was almost sixteen, she met a man. She said that loved him, but she didn't look at him nearly the same way she had looked at my father. The man's name was Jack, and he had a lot of money. So I was pretty sure my mother only wanted to marry him for security. She often said, 'We'll never have to worry about money again' or 'we can have everything we've ever wanted now'." Vaughn scowled, and his eyes flickered over to the picture of his sister.

"Marissa hated him. She was sure he was a terrible person, though he was always polite and gracious around us. Even though I didn't like Jack either, I ignored Marissa's opinion of him because I was eager to get all the things Mother had talked about. I was eager to have a lot of possessions and to stop barely getting by. I'd always thought that there was something that wasn't quite right about my Mother's new fiancé, but I always ignored the feeling, consumed by greed." His eyes flashed with regret.

"If I could somehow go back in time, I would have listened to my sister and tried to put a stop to the ceremony, but of course I can't. I can only imagine . . . Anyway, things started to change after the wedding. Not all at once, but gradually. Marissa was the first to notice, of course. She saw how his phony act of civility was slowly beginning to disappear. She told him so. So was constantly saying how much she hated him, that she wished everything was back to the way it was before, that she knew what a horrible person he was." He paused to see where my attention was.

It wasn't necessary – I was listening very intently.

He continued, "Marissa avoided doing things for him. She never listened to anything he said. Mother was always scolding her for it, but it didn't matter to her. She was wholly miserable. I, of course, took no notice, as I was busy flaunting a very expensive car. At first, I thought she was being unreasonable. I told her she was whiny and unappreciative. But even I could see that Jack acted differently around us than he did when Mother was around. When she wasn't, he was mean and bad-tempered. I saw it, but I ignored, telling myself it was nothing. But Marissa didn't. She knew something was wrong with him. She told me, she tried to warn me, but I told her she was wrong." His voice was pained now.

"We got into an awful fight about it once – she didn't speak to me for three days, and that was out of the ordinary. I knew that she loved me. She was always telling me so. I didn't always say it back, but I loved her, too. With everything I had. But ever since Mother married, we bickered all the time, and we were almost always on bad terms with each other. It was one night in mid-spring when it happened." His face drained of color, almost ghostly pale in the limited light.

It didn't look like would go on, so I had to press. "What?" I asked gently.

"It had been a particularly bad night. Mother was out doing some shopping, and she'd left the two of us behind with her husband. Marissa was being very ornery; she sat on the sofa and wouldn't listen to anything Jack told her. As usual, his usual act of courtesy was replaced by anger. I didn't really blame him for being upset with her for not listening to him, so when he yelled and called her horrible names, I thought she was getting what she deserved," he said bitterly.

"But then he did something I didn't expect. He reached out and yanked her off the couch by her hair and continued to shout. Then he slapped her so hard she fell to the ground. I wasn't so far gone at this point that this act of violence didn't bother me. I immediately went to stand in front of her. I yelled at him and told him never to touch her again. He said not to tell him what to do and punched my jaw before stalking off to his room." Absently, his right hand came up to run along his jaw.

"Marissa didn't say anything about the incident when Mother came home – I think she knew Mother wouldn't believe her. I had a bruise beginning to form on my jaw as proof, but I didn't say anything either. When I went to sleep that night, I told myself that this was nothing to worry about, that it was just a really bad night and Jack would apologize in the morning. I guess you could say I was deluding myself. Jack didn't apologize in the morning, and even when Mother was around, he wasn't as kind as usual. Marissa listened to him when he asked for things, but she always glowered and made her hate clear."

Vaughn suddenly smiled slightly at me wistfully. "She always was determined."

I attempted to smile back, but I had a pretty good idea of where his story was going, and I felt sick.

"Slowly, always slowly, he got worse. He got violent more and more often – it got to the point where he'd do it when Mother was in the house, just out of the room. He hurt Marissa the most, because she was always the one who rebelled against him. He hated her defiance. But I got hurt quite often, too, trying to protect her. Finally, after about a week and a half, I decided that it had gone too far. I told Mother. She didn't believe me. Marissa had told me she wouldn't. And I didn't have evidence, either – Jack never hit hard enough to leave lingering marks. They always disappeared within twenty-four hours." His voice was disgusted.

"It got even worse. Once, when he was particularly brutal, I interceded and he almost broke my arm."

I winced, and had to lean against the wall for support. My breathing had accelerated.

When he spoke again, his voice was broken. "And then came that terrible night. Mother, Jack and Marissa were all in the house when I left – sometimes I just had to get away from the house, to escape from the stress and the guilt – guilt that I couldn't do more to help my sister. Jack had already threatened me about going to the police and, like I said, there was no real evidence. I went to a bar – I looked old enough to pass for twenty one, and I got to know some people who were excellent at making fake IDs. I was out for about four hours."

"Then my cell phone rang and I answered it – it was my Mother. She wanted to know where I was. 'Nowhere,' I said. I'd gotten very harsh with her every since the violence started. 'Don't start with me, Vaughn. I've been out looking for you for two hours.' It seemed like my blood turned to ice. 'You're not at the house? Where are Jack and Marissa?' I asked. 'Back at the house,' she answered, irritated, 'Now tell me where you are so I can bring you home'." His voice cracked several times.

Not really considering what I had done until afterwards, I walked closer to him and stroked the back of his hand. He looked up, surprised by the gesture, but he didn't pull away.

He continued in a ragged whisper. "I told my Mother to just go back home – I'd be back as soon as I could. It's a miracle I made it back at all, between the alcohol and the state of panic I was in. When I got back, everything that I'd secretly feared happening did. But I won't go into detail about it."

"Did he . . ." I trailed off.

Vaughn ground his teeth together and hissed, "Yes. He killed her. While my Mother and me were away. I don't think he did it intentionally – I think he only meant to scare her, to hurt her. Her disobedience still infuriated him. I can only assume something happened that pushed him over the edge."

I shuddered almost violently. "That's . . . awful."

He sighed and nodded. "Yes. Thankfully, I wasn't the one to discover them. My mother phoned the police when she got back home, and somehow she was able to hold Jack in the house until the cops got there to arrest him. We had Marissa's funeral a week later."

I imagined what it must have been like for him; hearing the news that his sister was dead, murdered while he was out. It must have killed him, if he loved her as much as he said he did.

"What happened to your mother?" I asked quietly.

He snorted. "Something about the whole experience did something to her brain. She lives in an asylum now."

I blinked, not expecting this answer. "So after all this, you went to live with Mirabelle and Julia?"

"Yes. They took me in with open arms after hearing about everything that had happened. But I'm sure they wouldn't have if they knew the truth."

My eyebrows came together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He averted his eyes. "It's my fault, Chelsea. If I hadn't gone out that night – hell, if I had listened to Marissa in the first place, before the wedding, maybe none of that would have happened. Maybe my sister would still be alive."

Anger swelled up inside me before I could stop it. "Vaughn, of course it wasn't your fault. It was his."

"Well, obviously I didn't kill her," he snapped, "But I could have prevented it. I didn't try hard enough. That makes me at least partially accountable."

I shook my head and gripped the back of his hand. "No, Vaughn. It doesn't."

It was obvious that he didn't believe me. I could see it in his eyes. But then he seemed almost incredulous. "You know, you're the first person besides me that knows the whole story now. You're the only one I've ever told. And I don't even know _why._"

"I won't tell anyone," I assured him again quietly, "I'm glad that I . . . finally understand."

He shrugged and didn't reply. The silence that fell over us after my words wasn't uncomfortable; I continued to stoke his hand, but I was barely aware of it, so lost in my thoughts. I felt horribly awful for him. But of course I didn't tell him so. The fact that he thought he was partly responsible . . . well, I thought that was ridiculous. It wasn't right for him to be so consumed by greed. It wasn't right for him to dismiss his sister's opinions.

But I didn't think he should judge himself so harshly. I didn't think there was anything I could say, though, that would change his way of thinking. "Could I . . . is there some way I can help you?" I finally asked.

He scowled and pulled his hand away from mine. "I don't need your help," he snapped, "I shouldn't have told you anything. I don't even like you."

Though I probably should have expected him to say some nasty comment after these past few minutes of openness, it still stung. I didn't think he was telling the truth, though. I judged that he was every bit as good a liar as me, but when he said that last sentence, his voice was weak and unsure.

So I felt pretty confident when I replied, "Well, I do."

His eyes widened slightly at my words. "Do what?"

"Like you. I like you," I repeated.

His expression was so shocked it might have been funny if the atmosphere around us wasn't so tense. "Why?"

I sighed. "I don't know. You're such a jerk most of the time. Maybe it was just the mystery of the girl," I joked, gesturing to the picture, "Maybe, now that I know everything, I'll lose interest."

"I'm sure," he grumbled bitterly.

I frowned. "I was kidding."

Very slowly, he got up from the desk chair; he stood so close to me now. My heart raced at the proximity.

He smiled wryly. "I guess I would have to like you a little, after everything I just told you."

I couldn't control my wide smile. "You like me."

"Yes," he mumbled, so close that his breath blew into my face.

It smelled like mint. For a moment all I did was stare into his eyes, marveling yet again at the peculiar amethyst color. His gaze flickered to my lips for a split second before meeting my eyes again. My breathing accelerated as I leaned forward instinctively, beginning to close my eyes. My lips were on his for only a second, but during it, I felt like I was on some sort of strange high. My body hummed with pleasure.

But, it was just a second, because he sighed and pulled away, his eyes conflicted. "Chelsea . . ."

"Yes?" I asked, disappointed but not entirely surprised by his reaction. I had kissed him impulsively, knowing that rejection was likely. A small part of me was secretly hoping, though, that he was just as intrigued by me as I was by him. I wanted to laugh at that now. I wasn't remotely interesting.

He swallowed. "I'm not sure what to do here."

"Kiss me," I suggested without hope.

He blinked, clearly not expecting this response. He stepped back. "I . . . want to," he admitted to the floor, "but it'd give you the wrong idea. I don't . . . I can't _be _with anyone right now, Chelsea. I've got too many issues."

"I . . . understand," I lied, desperately trying to ignore the way my heart was twisting painfully in my chest. "Just friends, right?"

He nodded slowly, still not meeting my gaze.

"Right."

It took several hours the next morning for the snow to melt enough under the sun for us to get the door open. I didn't see Vaughn when I woke up. If you could even _call_ it waking up; my sleep had been restless, plagued by nightmares of his past.

It almost felt like his pain had become my pain. But there was no point in feeling that way. I'd all but spelled out how I felt last night, but he said he couldn't, not right now. But when exactly did 'right now' _end? _I had a feeling it would be quite a while.

It had been seven years and he still wasn't over it. Not that I expected him to be – the whole thing sounded rather traumatic. I knew that I was being selfish, thinking about how this affected only me. But for the moment I didn't care.

All I really wanted was to find a deep, dark hole and mourn for a little while over what could never be.

* * *

**A/N: I'm back! This was hard to write. :( **


	8. Uncertainty

_8: Uncertainty_

Will knocked on the door of my farmhouse a few days after the blizzard.

"Will," I said in surprise.

The blue-eyed prince smiled widely at me. "Good morning, Chelsea. Did you sleep well?"

I hadn't. The nightmares continued to haunt me, as did the sadness. But I managed to smile back and reply, "I did, thank you."

Will did not seem to notice the dryness in my tone. He continued to grin and fidget like he was very eager to say something.

"Will, it's good to see you, but I'm a bit busy at the moment," I lied.

"Very well. I won't take up much more of your time. I just had something to request." His eyes danced with delight.

"Yes?" I asked.

"The Starry Night Festival is almost upon us. Celebrate with me – we can have a very elegant dinner on my ship," he said hopefully.

I felt the regular impulse to decline, but this time I decided to try something else. I decided to go against my heart and give the answer my brain was screaming would be the best choice, the right choice.

"Okay."

* * *

Will had been right when he said that the Starry Night Festival was near. After I'd accepted his invitation, I had been shocked to see that it was actually coming in a few days' time. If I really thought about it, though, it shouldn't have been that surprising.

These past few days I'd rarely spoken to anyone. The imaginary black cloud that hung over my head was darker than ever, raining down on me even when the sun was high in the sky. I couldn't even be entirely happy when Celia had reached maturity – I would let her outside to graze when Spring arrived.

I hadn't been able to escape other people for long.

Julia cornered me exactly three days after the blizzard and demanded answers. "Chelsea, are you alright? I mean, I've seen you depressed before, a few times in high school, but this is worse." Her eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

I hadn't really been listening to what she'd been talking to me about, but when she approached this particular subject, I was quick to become defensive. "I'm fine, Julia. I always get depressed during the Winter. It's too cold."

"That's crap, Chelsea. I wish you'd tell me what's really wrong. But you weren't ever exactly open or eager to share things."

I sighed and averted my eyes. I'd forgotten that she'd known me for four years. So these days she was a bit annoyed with me, and I wanted to fix it, but Vaughn wouldn't want Julia to know that I knew . . . about the past. I was just shooting myself in the foot if I told her anything about that.

Of course, his painful story wasn't the only reason I was depressed. I very much regretted telling him how I felt. It would have been so much simpler to go on disliking each other, or at least pretend to. I was sure that, when I saw him again, tension and awkwardness would hang in the air almost visibly.

But I might not even see him again for a while, anyway. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if he went back to avoiding me and being as distant as possible, like our talk during the blizzard hadn't even happened. He was just the type to do that. I definitely didn't like that about him – his ability to disregard other peoples' feelings and dismiss things that had happened.

There were, in fact, many things about him I did not like. So why did the thought of discontinuing any sort of relationship with him pain me so much? I'd assumed that my original infatuation with him was based off mere curiosity – curiosity about the girl in the picture, about his attitude, about Vaughn in general . . . but now that I had answers, now that I knew what I'd been resolved to find out . . . shouldn't that curiosity have faded by now?

But that wasn't even the right word for how I felt about him now. Since I knew everything, there was no reason be curious anymore. So I'd been wrong to think that initial emotion was the cause behind my draw to him. I tried to remember other things I'd felt when I'd first met him.

Irritation. Anger. Nervousness. And, of course, there was also the attraction.

But it was only physical, right? Sorting out my feelings for this one infuriating individual was going to drive me mad. I didn't understand them. I probably never would. And, as usual, there was that contradicting, annoyingly realistic voice in the back of my mind saying that this whole thing was irrelevant.

It wouldn't matter if I liked or hated him – it wouldn't change the status of our relationship. It wouldn't change how his personal demons haunted him. It wouldn't change the past. This thought brought on a whole new wave of sadness had me wallowing in pity, for both myself and him, for the rest of the day.

By the time the day of the Starry Night Festival arrived, I was ready for it. I was almost anticipating it, actually. Not because of my actual company, but because I knew I was likely to feel something besides the sadness and pain that had been my constant companion for the past few days.

I wanted that so badly.

And – though my feelings towards Will hadn't changed at all – he was usually good for a laugh or two. So when I stood outside the door onboard his ship, my smile was genuine.

"Hey, Will," I said.

"Good evening, Chelsea, it's good to see you," he answered cheerily.

"You always say that."

"Because it's true." He grinned and gestured for me to come in.

My eyes widened and I drew in a sharp breath when I got inside and took in the scene before me. In the exact center of the room was a large round table and two comfortable-looking chairs sitting across from each other. The lights were dimmed slightly, and two candles flickered brightly – and romantically – set atop the table.

There was also a song playing very softly from some hidden speaker, a soft and relaxing melody. The platters holding our food could have been made for royalty – the visible part of the design was so elegant. All in all, it looked very, very romantic. I bit my lip and sighed very quietly to myself. I'd hoped – foolishly – that Will might have seen my acceptance on a friendship basis. I'd have to make it clear to him sometime during the evening that was still what I wanted.

A friend.

Not a boyfriend, not a lover, not a husband . . . "I was so happy when you agreed to celebrate with me, Chelsea. Sabrina prepared the food – this will be a lovely evening," Will said enthusiastically.

"Yes," I hedged.

"Let me take your coat," he said politely.

His hands lingered on my shoulders too long when I shrugged it off. Unexpected frustration welled up inside me when he went to go hang it up. I was so stupid. Here was a handsome, polite and financially set prince who wanted to be friends and more with me. And I was saying no. I wanted to be able to feel the same way. But that would mean I'd have to get rid of that other feeling, the one that tensed and screamed "wrong" every time Will touched me.

And I would be even stupider if I didn't realize exactly where that feeling came from. I would be stupid not to remember a different person's touch that didn't feel wrong . . .

"So, Chelsea, would you like to dine now? Or perhaps you would like to dance with me again? I highly enjoyed myself last time, at Julia's little gathering." Will smiled at me, no hint of shyness in his tone. He was obviously used to being bold when it came to talking to women.

"I think we should eat first," I said quickly.

He frowned slightly in disappointment, but agreed without argument. He asked me if I enjoyed the meal. I said yes. He asked how I was doing. I lied and said fine. He asked why I hadn't agreed to dine with him before. I said I didn't know.

He continued to make small talk, and I would answer, lying when it became necessary. I tried working up to the whole let's-be-friends thing, but the right time never seemed to come up.

When we were done eating, Will got up and offered me his arm. "Shall we go out onto the dock? It wouldn't be the Starry Night Festival without admiring the beauty of the stars."

"I suppose you're right," I agreed.

When we were both leaning against the rail, I realized I could still hear the relaxing melodies. There must have been speakers outside, too. I listened to the sounds of the waves crashing against the side of the ship. I watched the millions of stars twinkling brilliantly in the sky. Will was quiet for several moments, perhaps lost in thought.

When he finally spoke, he was staring at me intently, and his voice was soft. "They really are beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes," I said, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze.

His eyes were as bright and blue as ice in this light. "Just like you," he breathed.

I blushed. I wasn't used to compliments, even after having known him for a while. "Thanks. Any other 'maiden' on these Islands would be just as pretty, though," I mumbled, using what seemed to be his favorite word.

Will smiled gently, and reached up with one hand to stroke my cheek. "Not even partially as breathtaking," he disagreed, "as you."

I was very aware of that hand on my cheek. I was very aware that his face was getting closer and closer to mine with each passing second. I was mostly aware of the chant of "wrong" in the back of my mind. But I had to experiment with this if it had any chance of working. I had to get over my absorption Julia's cousin. It would only lead to more pain.

I only had time to observe the flash of emotion in Will's eyes before he was kissing me. Experimentally, I moved my hands to tangle my fingers into his hair, and kissed back. Eager and encouraged by my reaction, he pressed my back against the rail of the ship. He continued to kiss me for a few minutes before finally pulling away, his breathing ragged.

Mine, too, was uneven. When he finally lifted his eyes to mine, his expression was triumphant. "That was amazing," he said happily.

I mumbled, "Yes." My gaze shifted in the direction of Vendure Island. I needed to get home. I needed to think. "I should go now, Will," I said softly.

He nodded, "Yes, I suppose you should. It's getting late. Shall I escort you back?"

"No," I said quickly, "I'll manage."

He kissed me quickly once more before I left, and then turned to go back inside the ship with an elated grin. I hurried back to my home quickly, literally praying I wouldn't run into anyone on the way. But they were all inside their homes, merrily celebrating this little holiday.

I was assaulted by thoughts on my way back, but I pushed them away, unwilling to think until I reached my destination. But it took a lot of energy to keep them at bay; I was nearly gasping by the time I went inside. The first thing I did was make a lot of coffee, because that always helped me think.

When that was done, I sat cross-legged on my bed and sipped. It made me feel a little better, because I'd done this back in the city on rainy nights – it had given me some peace. Thankfully, it did the same thing for me now, in a different place, with different people. I felt calm and tranquil.

But that could only last so long. I closed my eyes and tried to decide how I felt about Will's abrupt kiss. It was nice, I supposed, to be complimented and adored. Nicer than being degraded and avoided, like _certain _people were capable of doing. Still, though . . . I could always predict that Will would be like that – kind and wonderful and flattering. I never expected it from Vaughn, and it always really meant something to me when he did say something kind, because he never said anything he didn't mean. I thought about that very brief, blissful second when I kissed him in his room.

The difference in feeling between the two kisses was almost comical. Even more so because Will had all but made out with me on his ship, and I had kissed Vaughn for less than ten seconds. Because, the enter time Will kissed me, I was experimenting, testing, and pretty coherent. I had kissed Vaughn impulsively, and, in the very short time before he pulled away, I'd felt like I was riding some strange high, and the only real emotion I felt was desire.

I sighed. Maybe this was just something I'd have to live with. Will probably expected us to start something after this evening's evens, and it wasn't like I could blame him. I probably would be with him. My parents would be overjoyed, of course, and it wouldn't be long before they were calling every day to 'see how I was doing'.

Just using excuses until the time came when they thought it was alright for them to ask for money. Julia would be happy, too, since I would be in a relationship that wasn't filled with angst and drama. In fact, there was only one person who would be left unsatisfied. Me. And hopefully Vaughn. I suddenly wished he was here; I needed to talk to him. I would find rejection, as usual, but I just had to.

And I would very soon.

* * *

The next day was Monday. Mirabelle came by with two little puppies for me to choose from. I chose the darker one, and I named it Cookie. I fashioned a little bed for her in my house with some blankets and an old laundry basket. She very thoughtfully left me with three bags of pet food, and gave me a few useful tips.

"If you ever get a bunch of chickens, a loyal dog will protect them from the wild ones," she said, "There's also a festival held every year, based on which dog can catch the Frisbee at the longest length."

"Cool," I said, patting its little head. It yipped happily.

Mirabelle smiled. "It seems to like you already." She looked beyond the field to the little chicken coop. "How's everything going, dear?"

I shrugged. "Alright, I guess. I've just been a little . . . distracted. I wanted to raise Mystic Islands a long time ago, but it kept slipping my mind. And I've got the money for a barn, I just haven't talked to Gannon yet . . ." I sighed and refused to meet her eyes.

"Well, I'm sure everything will work out fine. It has to." Her voice was warm. I managed a smile.

No matter what the circumstance, Mirabelle would always be kind.

* * *

When I went into the Animal Shop that afternoon, Julia was the first one I saw. "Hey, Chelsea. Come for lunch?" Her tone was happy and optimistic.

I was glad she'd apparently let go of her annoyance with my depression. I needed an excuse, so I replied, "Sure."

"Natalie's coming over, too," Julia said, gesturing for me to sit, "We're going to talk about girly things."

"What else?" I muttered.

Natalie came inside shortly after I sat down. She didn't seem surprised at all by my presence. "Hey, Julia. Hi, Chelsea," she greeted us, sitting across from me.

Julia served us little platters of fries and pizza.

"Did, uh, you make this, Jules?" I asked nervously. Whenever Julia cooked alone, it was nearly inedible. I chuckled softly to myself, recalling how numerous of her hideous experiments had nearly gotten her kicked out of culinary class in high school.

She made a face at me. "No, Mom did most of the work. You can eat without fear."

Natalie, too, seemed very relieved. She began eating without comment.

"I know it probably isn't as great as Pierre's food, but . . ." Julia trailed off.

Natalie shrugged. "No, it's not. But it'll do."

I smiled a little. Natalie was never one to beat around the bush. But her next words sent my amusement flying headlong out the window. "So, Pierre and I were walking on the beach last night."

My heart dropped into my stomach. "On which Island?" I asked.

"Sprout," she replied, her eyes alight with mischievousness.

I broke a fry apart into tiny pieces.

"How was that? Romantic?" Julia asked, sipping some orange juice.

Natalie continued to grin. "It was nice enough. Of course, _I _wasn't wined and dined on a huge ship and then kissed on a dock." She eyed me.

I wasn't sure if I was blushing or if the blood had drained from my face.

Julia nearly choked on her juice. "W-What?" She asked, her eyes flickering wildly from Natalie to me.

I supposed I shouldn't have been angry with Natalie. She didn't know I wanted it to be a secret. And, after all, wouldn't Julia – and everyone else, for that matter – have found out eventually?

"You were on Will's ship last night? Why?" Julia asked.

I was pleased to find that there was nothing but confusion in her voice. "Yes," I hedged carefully, "He asked if I would celebrate the Starry Night Festival with him."

"And he kissed you? On the dock?"

Aw. There it was. The joy I resented so much in her tone. "Yes," I mumbled.

Julia squealed. "So are you . . . together now?" She was trying so hard not to sound smug.

Suddenly, Natalie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Maybe I was wrong, but I thought something was going on with you and Julia's moody cousin. I saw him carry you away at the Harvest Festival last Fall."

"Maybe you shouldn't assume things, Natalie," said a familiar voice from behind me.

I turned in the chair to see Vaughn standing in the doorway with his hands buried in his pockets. How long had he been there?

Natalie bristled instantly. "I can assume anything I want. And since when was it alright for you to butt into other people's private conversations?" she snapped harshly.

"Not my fault you talk so loudly I can hear you in the hall," he answered, stepping forward to swipe a few fries from my plate.

"Hey," I grumbled halfheartedly.

He smiled at me slightly before eating the fries.

I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. Natalie wasn't through with her rant. "I don't even know why I would assume you were with this guy, Chelsea. He's such a jerk."

I really wished she would leave. I wished a deep pit would open in the floor so I could jump in and escape.

Natalie continued, not noticing the way my shoulders had hunched and that my left hand was slightly raised, as if braced for impact. I could guess what she'd say next. "It's lucky you're with that blonde prince now."

Despite myself, I had to admit that I was curious about his reaction to this particular news. Vaughn's eyes narrowed slightly, and his lips pressed into a hard line. Julia was monitoring his reaction just as closely as I was, and I could tell she was not pleased.

"That's good news, isn't it, Vaughn?" she asked.

He struggled to maintain a composed expression, but in the end, he managed. He couldn't quite hide the irritation in his eyes, though. "I need a pen, Julia. For some paperwork," he said, completely ignoring her question.

Julia sighed, reached in the pocket of her jacket, and handed him a blue pen.

Vaughn turned without another word, and stalked out of the room.

"What's with him?" Natalie grumbled.

Julia shrugged. "It's nothing, I'm sure."

We continued to eat, but this time in silence. I was grateful she seemed to sense that I wouldn't – couldn't – talk about Will right now. I was thinking too deeply to give anything more than a three word response anyway. I would be lying if I said that Vaughn's reaction had not pleased me. But at the same time, if it bothered him, he could stop it any time he chose. He knew that, didn't he? Maybe he didn't. But I wasn't going to tell him.

I already knew that expressing feelings to him could have devastating consequences.

* * *

When I went back to my farmhouse after lunch, I was restless. I needed to get out of the house for the rest of the day. I realized that, if I stayed here, Will was more than likely going to come looking for me. It wouldn't surprise me if he already was. I couldn't deal with him right now. I wanted a little while to escape the drama and pain. I wanted to talk to someone, but I wasn't sure who.

Julia was definitely out – I already knew her opinion. I didn't want to talk to Natalie – I was still slightly irritated with her. And I didn't really know anyone else on the Island well. So, who then? As I was thinking, I happened to notice a long object leaning up against the corner. I went over and picked it up, a small smile breaking across my face.

"Denny," I decided, clutching the fishing pole close.

I'd bought it from Gannon a week ago and, though I wasn't very good at fishing, he'd offered to teach me. Even after short encounters with him, I could tell he was always cheerful and joking. Dedicated, too, I added when I thought of his profession.

True, I could have gone to Lanna. But, to be honest, I thought she was a little vain, and a bit of an airhead, for lack of a better word. She always had her head in the clouds.

So Denny was the best option at the moment. I found him outside his little house, on the beach, with his own fishing pole in hand. Since Will wasn't around his ship or on Vendure Island, I could only assume he was on either Meadow or Volcano Island. It wasn't uncommon for Regis to drag him down there for long periods of time. I sat down beside the fisherman and cast my line out a good distance away from his.

"Afternoon, Denny," I said, making my voice all cheery.

Denny smiled at me, his big brown eyes almost shining. "Hey, Chelsea. Haven't seen you around in a while."

I shrugged and tried to pay attention to the line – if the pole vibrated or jerked, I needed to reel in fast. "Been busy. What have you been up to?" I asked.

"Fishing," he said, "And hanging out with Lanna."

"Cool." The line jerked roughly – I reeled in, but all that was there were a couple of fish bones.

Denny snickered. "Still not good at fishing, huh?"

"We can't all be experts," I grumbled.

He showed me a few things to do, and I caught five little fish. After a long, comfortable silence, I said, "So, how did your Starry Night go?"

Denny looked away and, under his dark skin, I thought he might be blushing. "Good," he said vaguely, "And you?"

_Confusing. Wrong. _"Fine."

"I saw you and Will on his ship," he commented.

"Did you? I'm sorry," I sighed.

He shrugged and smiled. "S'okay. But, from where I'm standing, it looked like it was more than _fine._"

I looked away. "I don't know. I'm not sure how I felt about it." That wasn't entirely true, but it would have to do.

"It was funny, because I thought you were sort of into Vaughn," Denny said, "And I thought he liked you."

My head whipped around. "What makes you think that?"

The fisherman shrugged and effortlessly jerked a large fish onto the shore. "Well," he said as he picked it up, "We talk sometimes – me and Vaughn – and usually he doesn't have much of an opinion when it comes to people, you know? But when we talked about you, he just went on and on and on."

I blushed. "What were you saying about me?"

Denny bit his lip. "Well, at first he basically just ranted about how you were just come city girl, come to here to fail. It was all pretty mean."

My eyes narrowed, but it was exactly what I should have expected.

Denny held up his hands. "Wait, wait! But it's sort of different now. I mean, he still says mean things occasionally, but . . . he says good things, too, now. Once he even said he thought you were pretty."

I blinked in surprise. "He did?"

Denny nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. I was beginning to think he really liked you. But I guess it's sort of a moot point now that you're with that prince, right?"

"I'm not, not really. It was sort of like a one-time thing," I said, ignoring the spark of excitement inside me.

"Huh," said Denny. Then, when he turned his head, I could have sworn he muttered, "That's not what he seems to think."

I was about to reply when I saw movement from the corner of my eye. Vaughn was coming towards us with an unfathomable expression.

"Denny," I said quietly, "I know it's sort of out of line for me to ask this, but do you think I could, um, talk to him? Alone?" I asked, gesturing to Vaughn, hoping he was still out of earshot.

Denny took his bundle of fish and stood. "Yeah, sure. I was going inside anyway. Nice to see ya, Chelsea."

I smiled and waved as he went inside his house. Vaughn didn't say anything when he reached me. He only stared for an immeasurable second before sitting beside me, in the place Denny had been. I tried desperately not to let the fisherman's words come back into my mind as I stared the Vaughn's profile – he was looking out at the waves.

_I was beginning to think he really liked you._

"Hey," I finally murmured.

He turned to looked at me. "Hi."

A long silence fell over us. I wondered if he was ever going to speak. "Was there something you wanted to say? Or do you just really enjoy my company?" I managed to joke, even in my nervous mood.

"I don't need anyone's company," he snapped.

My face fell. Of course he would begin the conversation by saying something cruel.

_He says good things, too, now. _

He sighed, as if only now realizing what he'd said, and wanting to take it back. "Your hair looks nice today," he mumbled very softly. It was his way of telling me that he was sorry.

_Once he even said that he thought you were pretty._

I blushed and looked out at the waves. "Thanks. I curled it," I said.

Vaughn lifted his eyes to stare at Will's grand ship. "It's a very nice ship, isn't it?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Yes, I suppose."

"He has a lot of nice things, doesn't he?"

"Well, sure."

"That really matters to some people, I guess," he said matter-of-factly.

"Not to _everyone_," I grumbled, knowing he was implying insults. Again.

When he met my gaze, his eyes seemed to be bottomless. "Are you really with that blonde guy?" he asked.

I shrugged and pushed the fishing pole aside. I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my forehead on them lightly. "Would it matter if I was?"

He shrugged. "It shouldn't. But it does."

"Well. I don't know. Maybe."

"I don't . . . like it," he said.

"Well, you know what to do about it if it bothers you so much," I grumbled.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I can't, Chelsea."

"So you've said," I sighed.

When he opened his eyes again, they were pained. "I'm always thinking about it. I can't get rid of the anger, the sadness, the . . . guilt. I don't want you to have to deal with all that. But that the same time . . ." He shook his head. By his tone, I knew he'd been talking about the past. "I don't know. I don't want you with someone else, either."

"That's a bit of a double standard, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. Do you even like him?"

I got defensive quickly. "Yes, I like Will." _As a friend . . . _

He nodded, staring intensely. "I'm sorry."

Judging by his tone, I could tell he wasn't apologizing for me liking Will. His apology stretched far beyond that. "Me, too," I said softly. It was the truth. I was sorry for his past. I was sorry for myself, for getting so absorbed and mentally involved with him when it would lead nowhere.

I was sorry for this whole messed up situation.

It took another a while, but eventually he got to his feet. "Mirabelle needs me back now," he said. It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt his fingers brush the side of my neck from behind.

"Okay," I whispered, attempting to sound indifferent.

"Goodbye," Vaughn said.

I watched him go with sad eyes. I scooped up handfuls of sand and it trickle through my fingers meaninglessly. I was suddenly – unexpectedly – overwhelmed by a strong wave of emotion. It wasn't fair.

Why should I have what I wanted? What had I done wrong? It wasn't like my life before these Islands was so much better. I hadn't gotten anything then, either. I knew I was being selfish with these thoughts, but, for the moment, I didn't care. The next wave of emotion I felt was tinged with bitterness.

Maybe I wasn't supposed to have what I wanted. Maybe I was supposed to just go along with whatever life threw at me without complaint. I took a deep breath and stared out at the waves, the now setting sun, preparing myself for my next thought, the one that was the harshest, the one that was the most difficult to accept.

Maybe this was the way it was supposed to be.

**A/N: I know the future doesn't look too great for V & C right now, but it'll get better - soon - I promise. **


	9. Reconciliation and Sickness

_9: Reconciliation and Sickness_

I tried very hard the next morning to get into a professional mood.

Winter was coming to a close, and I hadn't worked as hard as I should have. Spring would be here very soon, and I wanted to stock up early on seeds from Chen's Shop – I was getting turnips and strawberries. I was going to work very hard next season – I refused to allow personal issues to interfere with my work. I was going to ask Gannon to build me a barn on the first day of Spring, and I was going to work to acquire more chickens.

Of course, it was difficult to remain professional when Will approached me on my way to Meadow Island, outside the Diner.

"Good morning, fair maiden. Where are you off to on this gloriously sunny day?" he asked, immediately leaning forward to plant a kiss on my cheek.

I took a deep breath and smiled nicely back at him. I had decided - very professionally of course - to pursue something with Will. True, it wasn't really what I wanted, but it was my best option. I would be financially set, and he seemed to adore me anyway. Maybe love would come at another time. I could only weakly hope.

"I'm going to raise Mystic Islands," I said, "I've been slacking as of late."

"I am sure you will do wonderfully. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"No, that's okay," I answered quickly.

It wasn't that I didn't want his company. He was actually very nice to talk to. But I remembered how it had been when Vaughn was on Meadow Island when I raised Volcano Island, how he'd probably thought I was insane talking to Vi, simply because he couldn't see her. I didn't need Will thinking I was crazy, too.

The blonde prince shrugged, untroubled. "Very well. Perhaps you would dine with me again tonight, at the Café?" T

here was no point in saying no. "Yes, alright."

His smile was so bright it could have been a spotlight. "And then, afterwards, I shall walk you home and kiss you goodnight." He lowered his lips to my ear. "I did so enjoy it last night."

I blushed slightly. "Um. Yes. I'll see you later, Will."

* * *

The shrine looked just the same as always when I approached it on Meadow Island. And, like before, I didn't have to do anything special for a Harvest Sprite to appear. For a second, I wondered if a lot of them just hung around here, invisible to the human eye, waiting for me to come. I shivered a little at that; it was creepy.

Vi looked at me with her tiny, baby blue eyes. "Good morning, Chelsea. Have you come to raise an Island?"

I nodded.

"Which one?" she probed.

"The Mystic Islands," I said, giving her the twelve necessary sunstones.

She smiled broadly. "A fine choice. That's where the Harvest Goddess will live, you know. Perhaps she can help you with your problems."

"I don't have problems," I snapped. The idea of the Harvest Sprites spying on me seemed more likely all the time.

Vi held up her little hands defensively. "Alright, alright. It was merely a suggestion. She's good company."

_Better than you annoying things, I should hope, _I grumbled in my head. I was probably being very harsh, but –

"She could give you a few fashion tips, too," Vi continued, her eyeing my clothing with some distaste.

Okay, forget that. I wasn't being harsh _enough. _"Would you please just raise the Island?" I asked sharply.

"Oh. Sure." Vi disappeared, as if on cue.

Hesitantly, I sank to my knees, remembering how the last earthquake had made me fall. Of course, someone else was here with me . . . The earth shuddered violently beneath me, as it had before. I curled into a ball until it was over. Afterwards, I got to my feet and ran to the boat without even pausing to admire the two new Islands in the distance.

* * *

There were two signs stuck in the ground, on both of the Islands. One of them proclaimed the presence of the Harvest Goddess in the small, almost perfectly circular pond. The other sign was very vague and strange – it said 'Fit for a witch'. What that could possibly mean was a mystery to me. Honestly, I wasn't even sure of the Harvest Goddess' existence. It seemed a bit far-fetched to me.

But if there was such a thing as Harvest Sprites, why not their Goddess?

I approached the little pond cautiously, as if something vicious might be lurking under the water. I'd heard a few old stores from people who'd supposedly seen the Harvest Goddess; you had to summon her by tossing an offering into her dwelling place. But what would she like? I began running down a list of things in my head, but after I while I stopped, feeling like an idiot. I unearthed a small stone from beneath the snow, tossed it in, and waited.

Then, before my eyes, some kind of glittering green mist appeared. It hovered above the pond for a few minutes before someone stepped out of it. When the Harvest Goddess finally appeared, the mist disappeared completely, and she stood there alone, floating on thin air. She was really very beautiful, even allowing for the green hair.

She smiled warmly at me. "Hello. How very nice to meet you. I am the Harvest Goddess."

"So I assumed," I said. I wanted to smack myself the second the words were out. Her smile fell slightly.

I cleared my throat and made my voice polite. "I'm Chelsea. It's, uh, good to meet you, too."

"Oh, I already know who you are. You're the girl trying to put these Islands back together."

I blinked. "Yes. How did you know?"

The Harvest Goddess laughed. "I spend my free time watching the lives of the residents on Sunshine Islands."

"So you spy." I made a face. "Do the Harvest Sprites do it, too?"

"Mmm-hmm. It's only with the best intentions, dear. I think you've been doing a fine job. I have faith that, in time, these Islands will be grand again, before a great number of them sank into the sea." Her expression was suddenly one of ancient grief.

Her words brought with them memories. _She _believed I could do this. "It's nice of you to say that. Not . . . not everyone agrees, though," I sighed, thinking of one person in particular.

The Harvest Goddess frowned somewhat thoughtfully. "I do believe I know who you're talking about. I think it might comfort you to know that he is not as strong in that belief as he once was."

I smiled. "Really?"

"Yes. Have patience with him, Chelsea. Good things come to those who wait." The Harvest Goddess reached out to pat my arm comfortingly.

I sighed and looked away. "I guess so."

I could feel her eyes on my face.

"That is not all that upsets you when it comes to Vaughn, is it?" she asked gently.

"No," I admitted, "But I can't do anything about it. I have to be with Will."

The Harvest Goddess shrugged. "You don't have to do anything, Chelsea. But perhaps he would be the best choice, in the long run."

"I know. I wish he wasn't, though."

"Everything will turn out fine for you, Chelsea. Whatever happens, you will be happy," she promised.

"You can't know that."

"I do," she insisted.

I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn't want to talk about this anymore. S

he seemed to sense that. "I should go now, dear. Come and talk to me again soon. Oh, and . . ." She held up the small rock. "Perhaps you could make some more appealing offerings in the future?"

I smiled at the superficial request. "Sure."

* * *

When I got back to Vendure Island, I went to meet Will at the Café, like we'd agreed. I felt the urge to stop walking outside the Animal Shop and go inside, but of course I didn't. I shouldn't. I dragged my feet to the Café against their will. When I got inside, Will was sitting at one of the tables with the treasure-hunting girl, Lily. They were laughing over a plate of cookies, and they hadn't noticed my arrival.

"Yes, of course, Lily. You are more beautiful than any treasure that could possibly be found," he almost cooed.

She seemed a bit amused at his comment, smirking for a bit before replying, "You speak so differently than I am used to."

Will shrugged and offered her another cookie. I cleared my throat, irritated.

Will met my eyes immediately, smiling hugely. "Good evening, Chelsea. Lily and I were just discussing her unique profession."

I attempted to look happy as I sat down next to them. Will's arm came up to rest on my shoulders and he continued to speak. I thought it was odd that he found her so interesting if he didn't like expensive things – for that was exactly what Lily was always looking for. I gave up trying to understand after a minute though. I was so tired today. It seemed like I had been tired for a very long time now.

I remembered when I first came to these Islands I had been frightened by the prospect of making such a huge decision and beginning a new life. But besides that, I had also been excited and eager. Physically, I was always working now. But I had a feeling that a certain animal dealer had more to do with my emotional lack of energy for the moment. I was trying to be professional about being with Will, but – ever after two days – the act was beginning to wear on me. I would just go to bed early tonight, and rest up tomorrow. I was quiet throughout Will's and Lily's conversation, so lost in my thoughts.

At one point, I had to break from my reverie to order, but those three sentences were pretty much everything I said. Will did try to speak to me a few times, but after six or seven one-word answers he gave up and went back to conversing – and subtly flirting – with Lily. I was still a little irritated with Will for that. But part of it was just who he was, I supposed. Flirting was probably just something he did naturally now. It was just something I'd have to get used to.

I received a surprise the very next day. Whether it was pleasant or unpleasa

* * *

nt, I really couldn't decide. Julia had found me fishing outside of Denny's house and was now smiling nicely.

"Morning, Chelsea. There's a phone call for you."

I blinked, stunned for a moment. Then I chuckled to myself, amazed that I had been so out-of-touch with anything remotely technical these days. A computer or an iPod would probably look completely foreign to me now. "A phone call?" I asked, "I didn't even know there was a phone on the Island."

Julia laughed. "We're not _that_ isolated from the city, Chelsea. You have the draw the line somewhere. C'mon, let's go."

I leaned my pole against Denny's house and began walking with her. "Where is the phone?" I wondered.

"My mom has one, Chen has one, Gannon has one, and Taro has one," Julia said, "You could get one, too, if you ordered it from Chen."

I shrugged. "Maybe later. Who's on the phone for me?"

"Your mom," Julia mumbled, her eyes cautious.

I hadn't exactly told her everything about how they kicked me out, but Julia was perceptive. She knew. A flurry of mixed emotions shot through me. Anger. Annoyance. Hope. Surprise. Love. I wasn't sure which was the dominant one at this point, so I just focused on being surprised.

Julia led me into the Animal Shop, where Mirabelle was at her post, behind the counter. "Phone's back in Mom's room." Julia led me to the first door on the left, and gestured for me to go in.

"I won't eavesdrop," she promised, "Even though I really want to."

I made a face at her and went inside. Mirabelle's room was very plain, but still homey. Pictures and drawings hung on her walls, and little knickknacks – mostly of animals – were placed on different tables and dressers in an orderly fashion. One of the pictures caught my eye more than the others; it sat on her nightstand, next to some fat book about sheep. It was Vaughn and Marissa. They were sitting on a long leather couch, and he had his arms around her.

They were both laughing. _Laughing. _I got closer and admired it for a second, never having seen such a delighted expression on Vaughn's face before. But then I realized I was in here for a reason. I spotted black, corded phone on the other nightstand – I sat down on the little bed and picked it up.

"Hello?" I asked, having no idea what my tone sounded like.

"Chelsea?" My mother's voice was quiet, cautious.

"Yup," I said, popping the 'p'. "How'd you know I was here?" The question came out sharper than I meant. I was still felt largely hurt and betrayed, but that didn't mean I didn't still love both of my parents. I hoped they still knew that.

"Your father has his sources. And I think we have a right to know where our daughter is," she sighed.

"It didn't matter before, though, did it?" I inhaled in a sharp gust. I couldn't seem to stop the sarcasm, the bitter humor. Even though I loved them, I didn't think I could speak to either of them calmly.

"Can't we just put that whole mess behind us? Everything worked out for the best, the way we knew it would. You're a smart girl, Chelsea," Mom retorted, somehow sounding encouraging and haughty at the same time.

Mother always was a little strange.

"Thanks," I grumbled.

"Are you happy where you are, Chelsea? Have you met someone?"

I sighed and stared out the window; it was beginning to rain. When I spoke again, my voice was weak. "Mom, I can't talk right now. But I am happy. You should know that."

"Please." She was suddenly pleading with me in a way I'd never heard her speak before. "Please, Chelsea, come back and visit your father and I. We do feel terribly for our actions . . . and we'll make it up to you. Haven't we always?"

"With computers and TVs and iPods and money," I mumbled, twisting a strand of fingers around in my hair unhappily.

"You weren't complaining at the time," she snapped. But then there was a pause, and she seemed to realize her mistake. "I'm sorry again, Chelsea – I am deeply appalled with myself. Please, come see us. That's all I ask."

I hesitated. Seeing them _would _be nice, despite the tense atmosphere that would surely hang over us like a black cloud. Most of my rational mind told me it was a bad idea, but the other longed to be on good terms with my parents again. That was never going to happen unless we sorted things out – and that wasn't something I wanted to do over the phone.

"Alright," I agreed.

"Good," my mother said cheerfully, "Your father will get some time off work."

I blinked, very surprised. Maybe they _were_ sorry. "Okay."

"You'll leave tomorrow," Mother said professionally.

"That's pretty short notice . . ." I trailed off.

"Oh, nonsense. Whatever your expenses may be, I will cover them, and I'm sure you can find someone to watch over your little pet farm."

I bristled a bit at that, but I calmed myself by counting to ten slowly in my head. "Alright," I mumbled, eager to get off the phone now, "I'll board the first boat that arrives tomorrow."

"Very well, dear. I'll expect you sometime in the afternoon, then. Goodbye."

"Bye," I sighed, hanging the phone up.

Almost immediately after, something came to my attention. The next day was Monday – I would be leaving the Islands on the same day Vaughn arrived. I wanted to kick myself, but I had already agreed, so I dragged my tired body off the bed and went home to pack.

* * *

By five thirty on Monday morning, I was standing at the dock with Natalie's borrowed brown suitcase, waiting for the boat. Will had been extremely disappointed when I told him I was leaving, and it was actually very touching.

"I shall miss you every second you're away," he said sincerely, leaning forward to kiss me lightly.

"Thanks," I had replied, wishing I could say something more heartfelt in return.

He had grinned, kissed me again, and then left, possibly to find Lily. Either Will was so besotted with me he didn't notice my halfhearted kisses and weak answers, or he was just very oblivious. I hoped it was the latter. Julia had offered to watch my chickens and my little dog, Cookie, while I was away, so thankfully, I had nothing to worry about.

I was still irritated with myself for agreeing to leave on a Monday. Even though I never had more than polite conversations with Vaughn these days, at least when he was on the Islands, I could watch from far away. Sometimes, when I looked up to find him, I saw that he'd been staring, too, with an intense thoughtful expression in his amethyst eyes. It hurt too much to consider what he might be thinking about. I comforted myself with the knowledge that the boat that was coming to pick me up was also the one to drop him off.

So I would at least be allowed to say hello. When I saw the small boat appearing the distance, my heart began to race with anticipation. It pulled up alongside the dock while bellowing a very long, lingering horn. Vaughn appeared on the deck of the boat before descending down slowly to the dock. When he saw me standing there, his eyebrows went up in surprise. He stopped in front of me, his eyes raking down my face and my body. I took the opportunity as well, studying every detail about his face so it would be ingrained in my brain.

"Where are you going?" His tone would have sounded harsh if he wasn't smiling slightly.

"I'm visiting my parents," I sighed, "Your lovely cousin is watching the animals."

"How long will you be gone?"

It pleased me that he seemed genuinely interested. "I'm not sure," I admitted, "Not too long."

"Need to get back to the blonde guy?"

"No," I snapped.

As usual, my anger amused him. "Bye then," he said.

"Bye," I repeated. Neither of us moved. I wanted so badly to move towards him.

"Hey!" a loud voice bellowed off the boat deck, "You on or are you off?"

"I'm coming," I called, glaring.

When I turned, I decided to take a small chance, not particular caring about what he might say back. "I'll miss you."

He still sounded very sincere when he spoke again. "I'll miss you, too."

When I got out of the taxi cab in front of my parents' house later that day, I was very tired, anxious and annoyed. The city was still awful, the people were just as rude, and I felt like I was in the early stages of cold. Surprisingly, my mother was standing in the doorway when I arrived, and when she saw me getting out of the cab, she rushed up to me and threw her arms around me.

"Chelsea," she gushed happily.

I froze, stunned by this reaction. My mother was never this affectionate – she usually carried around an air of superiority. No one messed with her. When I pulled back to look at her, I saw she looked just the same as always. Done-up blonde hair, dark green eyes, too much makeup, a cell phone clenched in her hand. My mother looks absolutely nothing like me, and I questioned whether or not I was adopted when I was very young. But I knew how much my father resembled me, so I dismissed the idea quickly after that. I liked to think I was a perceptive child then.

"Hi, Mom," I said, genuinely pleased with her warm greeting.

"I missed you, baby." She kissed my cheek and pulled me towards the door – the wheels on my suitcase dragged along the ground with a slight rattling sound. I looked around – the house was just the same as always, too. I'd been here a just a little while ago, to collect my things, but I'd rushed out in a hurry. Now I examined it openly.

My parents owned a reasonably big two-story house with glamorous furnishings and semi-rare paintings. It was an interesting place to grow up.

"Talk to me, Chelsea," Mother commanded, "What's going on with you?"

The housekeeper – a stout, middle-aged woman named Glenda – silently took my suitcase from me and proceeded upstairs to my old room. I sighed, unsure of where to start. But once I began, it all seemed to flow pretty easily. I could tell she was a little unhappy and irritated she was with my new profession, but she at least pretended to hide it. I left out anything concerning romance. By the time I was through, I'd hoped she didn't notice.

But then her eyes narrowed and my heart shattered.

"So, have you met anyone?"

My eyes fell to the floor. I was so hesitant to tell her about Will. She always wanted a lawyer or a surgeon or a celebrity for me – anyone with a humungous salary – and it almost seemed like I was doing exactly what she wanted, like an arranged marriage. I shuddered. The defiant, hurt part in me flared, and my chin jutted out arrogantly.

"No."

Mom glared. "I've spoken to your little friend, Julia. She mentioned something about a very polite blonde _prince._"

Despair hit me with the tremendous force of a tsunami. Was this why she was being so loving and good-natured? Because she knew I was getting involved with someone rich? I didn't understand her most of the time; they had so many great things, but it was like they never had enough. My father wasn't as bad as my mother when it came down to it, but he was close.

"Yes," I admitted, "His name is Will." What's more, I actually felt _guilty _as I told my Mother this. Like I was betraying Vaughn somehow. But of course that was ridiculous; the only one I was betraying was myself.

Mom's eyes lit up. "That's wonderful, dear. Tell me about him."

I proceeded to tell her what I knew about him – which, if I was being honest, was surprisingly little – with what I hoped was a happy voice. The problem with my mother, though, was that – like me – she also had moments of being too observant.

"You don't seem too enthusiastic," she noted, a bit of an edge to her tone now.

I shrugged. "I like him."

"Not a lot, though, right?" she asked.

I averted my eyes. "I don't know. I . . ." At that moment, I was suddenly struck by an intense wave of longing. This was my _mother_. Someone I was supposed to be able to share my feelings with. I wanted that so badly; it seemed like there was no one to turn to anymore. Julia used to be the one I told everything, too; but she was so averse to what I was feeling right now it wasn't an option. So what else to do?

"I sort of like someone else," I murmured almost inaudibly.

This got her attention immediately. "What? Chelsea, we're talking about a rich, polite, lovely _prince._" She drew the word out longer than necessary.

"Yes," I agreed, "And a like him. But I like someone else more."

"Who?" Mother asked.

I sighed, realizing that if I got into this whole thing now I would also have to explain why being with Vaughn wasn't possible right now. And of course I wouldn't – couldn't – do that. "I really can't talk about it," I said cryptically, "But his name's Vaughn."

"What's his profession?" Mother wanted to know.

Of course, she was subtly asking me what his income was. "It doesn't matter," I snapped angrily.

She caught up to my mood immediately and backed off. "You're right, I'm sorry," she apologized.

I took a deep breath. I knew that we needed to sort things out, but I was too tired to think about it right now. And besides, I wanted Dad to be around for it, too.

"Would you mind if I took a nap? Traveling takes it out of me." I fake-yawned, though I was actually exhausted.

"Of course, dear. Glenda's made the bed up nicely for you." Mother stood, kissed me on the cheek, and walked off to her office. I went up the stairs and into my room. It looked differently, but that didn't really surprise me – they probably changed it twenty minutes after I left. I lay down on the queen sized bed and my head lolled to the side, my eyes half-closed. Just as I was drifting off, I noticed a pretty purple notebook on a nightstand.

_The color of Vaughn's eyes, _a small part of my mind whispered.

And then I fell asleep with a small smile on my lips.

* * *

When I woke up, I knew I was sick. My throat was thick and raw; it hurt to swallow. My nose was plugged, and a light sheen of sweat was built up all over my body. My stomach was twisting and rolling with nausea. I tried to moan in pain, but that really hurt, so eventually I settled on being in agonized quiet. I sat up in bed and wiped the sweat from my face. The sound of me moving around must have been louder than I thought, because the door opened silently. Standing there, in the doorway, was my father, looking just the same as I remembered.

Dark brown hair, shining, intelligent blue eyes. It was dark outside, so I couldn't see his expression completely, but when he got closer, I saw there was a tear in the corner of one eye. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around me.

"Hi, baby," he said after a minute.

I hugged him back. My father could be just like my mother but at times like these, he was so sincere and kind. W

hen he pulled away, he smiled. "Missed you. Go back to sleep now."

"I don't feel well," I complained like a small child.

"We'll have a doctor come look at you tomorrow," Dad promised.

I thanked him once, and sank into unconsciousness again.

* * *

In the morning, the cold was worse. I felt positively miserable, and I was _hot. _My whole body felt like it was burning up, and I was still sweating heavily. There was a stinging headache located in both my temples now, and I was still nauseous. I groaned, wondering how I'd gotten so sick in such a short amount of time. Mother came into my room shortly after I woke up.

When she looked at me, her eyes widened in horror. "Chelsea, you look positively awful," she exclaimed.

I glared. "Thanks."

She grimaced. "Dave, we need a doctor," Mom called down the hall.

"Dad's still home?" I asked.

"I told you he was getting time off work. Though I suppose it's a wasted effort if you're stuck in bed all day."

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Be back soon – I'll have Glenda bring you some water and orange juice." Mother whirled and hurried out of the room as quickly as she could in her black, strappy heels.

Glena brought me the beverages, which I thanked her profusely for. By mid-afternoon, it seemed like I was getting worse still. The doctor arrived sometime after two in the afternoon. He was a tall, black-haired man with a professional, but still caring attitude. His name was Dr. Trent. He said that it was anything serious, just a terrible bug that's seemed to have affected almost every soul in the city.

Another terrible thing about cities – sickness outbreaks.

Now I would have to wait longer before I could go home. But, as time went on, I felt like I no longer cared. Mother had given me some pretty strong medication for my fever and headache, and I was feeling a little loopy. I only thought about things that made me happy as I lay miserably in bed. I thought about home, my little Island, all my friends . . . but mostly I thought about Vaughn. I wondered what he might be doing right now, and if he'd been thinking about me. I wanted him to be here with me right now. I wanted him to hold me. But of course that wasn't going to happen. The pain of knowing that seemed to be intensified by the sickness. By the time evening rolled around, I couldn't fight sleep any longer – the meds were going to win. Before I was dragged under, though, my delirious brain told me two other things. I was sick.

And, no matter what the others said, I truly wasn't sure if I was going to get better.

**A/N: I was unhappy with the lack of Vaughn in this chapter. But the absence was necessary - he'll be in the next one a lot. :) **


	10. Fallin' for You

_10: Fallin' for you_

"Chelsea, maybe you should go home," Mother commented nervously. She stood close to the door, as away from me as possible. I glared at her with what were surely bloodshot eyes.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Dad came into the room and to my rescue. "Of course she can't do home in this condition, Blanch. She's too sick to move." With that, he turned and hurried away again.

Since I was since and unable to spent 'quality time' with both of them, they had both gone back to their regular working schedules. This meant I would barely see my father or my mother. Glena was the only one making regular appearances around here. Mother didn't work nearly as often as Dad did, but she was always off doing unnecessary things – getting her hair styled, her nails manicured, her eyebrows waxed . . . more often than not, though, she went to parties or lunches with her glamorous friends.

I had no idea what they talked about; probably trivial gossip that was worth less than the last tissue I'd blown my nose on. I loved my Mom to death, but she had no idea what real work was. If she ever visited Sunshine Islands – and I sincerely doubt she would – she might faint if she saw all the work I did every day.

"I'm sorry to be inconveniencing you, Mom," I grumbled hoarsely.

She waved me away. "That's alright, dear – I'll be out of the house much too often to notice anyway." She looked at her watch. "I should be off to work now. I won't be back until later this evening because I'm attending a dinner party hosting by one of my dearest friends."

"Great," I muttered, squinting against the bright sunlight that was streaming into my eyes from the western window.

"Goodbye, Chelsea." Mother turned and exited the room without another word.

I heard Dad yell a few parting words of his own as he hurried past my door. I chuckled to myself once without humor. Though my father was good at his job, he lacked punctuality. I lay back against the big pillow and stared bleakly at the walls.

It wasn't like I had nothing to do – a plasma screen TV was mounted on the wall, a laptop with internet connection sat on the desk by the window, and there was a small black DS at the foot of the bed with some game in it called Harvest Moon. Yes, I had lots of things to choose from. But this horrid cold was dragging me into the deepest of black moods; all I wanted to do was glare and snap at everybody and everything. I knew the majority of my agitation came from homesickness; I missed everyone on the Islands.

I missed my chickens and my dog and my land . . . I missed my home. I snorted grimly to myself once again. I had lived in the city for most of my life, yet the Islands I currently lived felt more like home than any other place in the world to me. It was nice to know I truly belonged. I winced when I swallowed and my throat started aching again. Mom had given me some sort of cough medicine to help, but it didn't seem to be doing any wonders for me at the moment.

Sighing – and grimacing again – I shifted onto my side so I was comfortable. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself into unconsciousness, focusing on the syrup-induced drowsiness. It didn't work. Frustrated, I sat up again, trying to find a happy place in my mind. I thought about Julia, and all our good times in high school.

I thought about Denny, and his cheerful, every day optimism. I thought about Natalie, and my fondness for her tomboyish attitude. I thought about and appreciate every individual living on my home until I was left with only two people. Guiltily, I realized that Will had been one of them. I should have thought about him first.

I should be missing him right now. I should want him to visit me and tell me everything would be alright. Was it very much my fault that I couldn't seem to want any of those things? In a way, I _would _like him to be here – as my friend. I could use a few of his never-ending stream of compliments right about now.

But I couldn't have that – Will as a friend. It wasn't like that for us. I closed my eyes again and tried to imagine being with him, what his smile would look like. Try as I might though, Will kept turning into someone else, someone I had all but forbidden my mind to think about in the past couple of days. It hurt too much. Every time I pictured Vaughn – pictured his smile, his eyes, his kiss – I would have to feel the accompanying sadness.

Most of the time, I just wasn't up for it. But I was in such of a screw-everything, I-hate-the-world type of mood right now that it didn't matter. Almost defiantly, I allowed my mind to go down a path it had never imagined in detail before. I imagined kissing him.

Deeply. Passionately.

I imagined marrying him for a brief amount time before I turned away from the idea altogether. In order to want to marry someone, you have to love them, right? Be in love with them? I wasn't in love with Vaughn. I hadn't known him long enough for that. Granted, sometimes, when I was with him, I was assaulted by a few unrecognizable emotions – especially lately – but it wasn't love. It couldn't be. An ironic thought occurred to me then, and I burst out laughing, not even darkly this time. There was a time when I hated Vaughn.

A lot.

More than anyone I've ever hated. And now I was thinking about being with him, about kissing him, about talking for hours with him . . .

"Chelsea?" A soft voice asked from behind the door.

"Come in," I said, my tone back to bleak.

Glenda walked in, twisting her hands together nervously. "I came to see if you were alright. I heard some commotion in here."

I blinked, and cursed myself in my head. My parents were already starting to be annoyed with my presence – I didn't want the housekeeper to start believing I was insane. "Err, yeah," I muttered lamely, "I just thought of something funny."

Glenda smiled warmly, turned, and left. When she was gone, I escaped my boredom for a few minutes by calling Julia and informing her about my current condition. She was fairly understanding and sympathetic about the whole thing.

When I hung the phone back up, all I could do then was lay back and stare up at the ceiling.

* * *

A hideously bright light woke me in the morning. Groaning in annoyance – and noticing it didn't hurt my throat quite as bad as yesterday – I allowed my eyes to adjust slowly to it reluctantly. When I had clear vision, my head whipped around to see Mother looking through an assortment of shoes in the walk-in closet. The light that hung overhead was extremely bright, and it was shining directly into my face.

"Mom!" I snapped angrily.

"Yes, dear?" Mother asked, picking up a pair of red high heels.

"The light," I moaned unhappily.

She glanced upwards, and then at me. "Oh. Terribly sorry, Chelsea. I've found what I wanted, anyway." She shut the light off walked to the door. "I should be out all day."

"What else is new?" I whispered to myself.

She was distracted by the sound of the phone ringing. Glenda raced into my room with it, holding it out to my mother with a professional expression.

"It is the Phyllis', Mrs. Montgomery."

My mother took the phone. "Yes? Patricia?"

I tuned out the rest of her boring conversation, wishing a pit would open in the floor so I could jump in. All I could tell by the end of the phone called was that Mom was angry. She hung it up and almost shoved it back into Glenda's hands, fuming.

"What's wrong, Mom?" I wanted to know.

"Patricia cancelled our lunch today," she snapped.

I didn't bother asking why. It would only irritate me.

"So I shall be here all day," Mother continued, obviously unhappy. She turned and stormed out of the room.

* * *

Later, around seven in the evening, I pulled on an enormous robe and fluffy slippers. I wanted to go downstairs for a while, simply bored out of my skull with the surroundings of this room. I'd tried to watch TV, but I stopped halfway into some show. I failed to see why I'd found the activity so interesting before. Perhaps raising a farm, Islands, and a civilization really does change a person.

Glena tried to make me get back into bed, but I waved her off. "I need to move around for a while. I appreciate your concern, however." I went downstairs, where mother was sipping tea from a cup with beautiful roses stenciled on the sides.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, sitting down beside her.

Mother jumped, almost spilling the tea. "Don't startle me like that, Chelsea. What are you doing up? I have no desire to become ill." She leaned away from me like I was the plague.

I sighed and poured tea for myself, sipping it without comment. I knew she wasn't being mean intentionally – she was just annoyed about her stupid lunch party. We hadn't been sitting together long when we heard a knocking on the door – three loud, demanding taps. Glenda raced down the stairs. She leaned up on her toes to see through the peep hole.

"Who is it?" Mother grumbled.

Glenda shrugged. "No one I've seen before, Mrs. Montgomery."

"Open the door, Glenda," Mother said lazily.

Glenda hesitated, shrugged, and opened the door. At first, my eyes were glued to the cup, watching the steam coming off the tea with no real interest. When I heard the voice of the visitor, however, my eyes about fell out of my head.

"Is Chelsea here?"

Glenda paused, unsure if she should answer or not.

Mother sat her tea down and went to stand beside the housekeeper. "What's it you?" she demanded.

I almost threw the tea at the table in my hurry to rise. I about tripped over my feet on the way to the door. My eyes widened when I saw the man on the porch. I hadn't been imagining it. I wasn't so sickly delusional that my mind was making up cruel hallucinations. Vaughn's expression was unfathomable, indifferent, but when he saw me, he smiled a little. I smiled back widely before I remembered how I must look right now. Hair in knots everywhere, bloodshot eyes, pajamas and robe . . . I bit my lip in embarrassment.

Mother stared, still waiting for an answer to her question. Vaughn looked back up at her slowly, still smirking. I wondered idly if he got as much amusement out of my Mom's annoyance as he did out of mine. Almost in confirmation, Vaughn reached up a hand and tipped his hat to her.

"Vaughn. Chelsea's . . . friend."

I hoped that neither of them noticed the hesitation in his statement.

Mom's eyes flickered to me.

"Yes," I said quickly, "I know him."

Mother's eyes widened the moment she heard the name; she looked him over for a minute, and she wasn't secretive about it. Vaughn's smirk melted away; now he just looked aggravated. Quickly, without thinking, I reached out and took his hand, trying to pull him inside. He moved to stand next to me, his eyes never leaving my Mother's. For a moment, all I did was stare up at his face; I was still awed he was here. It seemed like such an out-of-character thing for him to do, coming to visit me in the city, at my parents' home, no less.

"Let's go up to my room," I suggested.

I could only hope Mom didn't lurk in the hall to eavesdrop. Mother frowned, but then she nodded reluctantly.

"Don't take too long," she said.

As we turned, she caught my elbow and leaned her lips down to my ear. "I'm assuming this isn't the prince you're supposedly with?"

I smiled slightly to myself, and enjoyed her expression when I turned to whisper back. "No."

* * *

The very first thing I did, after I shut the door to my room, was turn to face him with a deep breath. He continued to smirk at me, that same infuriating small smile that I loved and hated at the same time.

"Vaughn," I breathed, "What are you doing here?" My tone wasn't harsh or demanding at all – instead, it was warm.

He sighed and looked away, out the window. "Julia said you were sick."

I waited for him to say more, but he didn't. "And . . .?" I finally prodded.

When he spoke again, his tone was defensive. "And I came to see you."

I sighed, hating how always had to beat answers out of him. But, in the end, it didn't matter why he'd come. All that did was that he was here, and that I could see him, hear his voice. There seemed like nothing else to do in the moment that to step forward and hug him. Vaughn stiffened instantly when my arms wrapped around him, but after a tense second, relaxed, and actually brought an arm up to hug me back. It wasn't even a weak, I'm-very-uncomfortable sort of hug – it was tight and caring.

I hung onto him for a lot longer than I should have, but he didn't seem to notice this or care. At first. He broke away abruptly; his cheeks stained a light shade of pink. I chuckled – the expression seemed so out place.

"I . . . I missed you," I said softly.

"I know," he mumbled.

I frowned at that response. At that moment, Mother came into the room. Her eyes shifted from the two of us for several long seconds before she spoke.

"Chelsea, are you quite through?"

Anger welled up in my chest. I was so _sick _of people pushing me away from Vaughn, including himself. "No, Mom. I'm not. I want him to stay here tonight." I blushed the instant the words were out of my mouth. My eyes flickered to him to measure his reaction.

His eyes widened slightly, but, other than that, his uninterested expression remained.

Mother blinked. "Chelsea," she said, in her best motherly warning voice.

We stared each other down for a good minute, before she drew in a deep breath and held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, Chelsea. I wanted to be on the best terms as possible with you, you know that."

Unhappily, she turned her gaze on Vaughn. "There's a guest bedroom across the hall," she said curtly. With that, she whirled and stalked down the stairs.

A long moment of silence fell over us. "I shouldn't stay," he said finally, "your mom wouldn't like that."

I lifted my hand to wave his comment away. "I want you to," I said, not meeting his eyes. "Please stay."

When I looked up, he looked thoughtful. "Alright," he agreed after a moment.

At that exact moment, I was unpleasantly reminded that I had a very bad cold. There was suddenly an uncontrollable tickle in my throat, and I started coughing, almost violently. I tried to stifle them, not wanting to do this in front of him – it must have been horribly unattractive. Vaughn paused for a moment, contemplating what to do. But then he shook his head once to himself, stepped forward, and placed his hands on my arms.

"C'mon."

Sniffling, I let him lead me over my bed. I slid under the blankets and settled back against the pillow. I shivered then, only now realizing how cold it was. He stood by the bed for a moment, obviously uncomfortable. I was still so touched he'd bothered to show up at all. I knew he didn't want anything romantic right now, but, as only a friendly gesture, it was nice.

It was dark in the room now, as there was hardly any light coming in through the window. He stared down at the ground. I stared at his face until he finally looked up at met my eyes.

"Thank you," I said, "for coming."

He sighed, smiled a little, but otherwise didn't answer. I continued to hold his gaze for a long, endless minute. I couldn't decipher the emotions in his eyes; he was trying to look indifferent again, but not quite succeeding. Here, alone in the dark, it was so easy to pretend we were together. That the way he was looking at me was adoringly, lovingly.

Because – as much as he tried to hide it – I saw a spark of affection in his smile. Of course, that might have been my imagination, showing me exactly what I wanted to see. My mother burst in again with a bottle of Nyquil in her hands. She hurriedly turned on a light, her eyes flickering between us suspiciously. She wasn't even trying to be subtle, I noted critically.

"How are you feeling, Chelsea?" Mom asked, her eyes accusing.

"Fine," I snapped – lying, of course – harshly.

She glanced at Vaughn unwillingly. "The room's all made up now," she not-so-delicately hinted.

He sighed, looking at me once more. Again, I was probably only imagining the wistfulness in that look. He left silently, pulling the door tight behind him. Mother began pouring a bit of the medicine into a tiny cup without comment. Wordlessly, she handed it to me.

"Thanks," I mumbled acidly, throwing back the disgusting liquid.

When I gave her back the cup, she flipped it upside-down onto the lid of the Nyquil bottle. She spun it around and around for a few minutes, still remaining quiet. If she thought the silence was making me nervous, she was going to be disappointed. I was so much more angry than anxious. Angry at Julia. Angry at Will. Angry at Mom. But most of all, angry at Vaughn. I had been mostly sympathetic with him up until this point, but now . . .

"I assume that's the one you were talking about earlier?" Mother asked, still toying with the cup. I drew in a long, deep breathe.

"Yes," I said finally.

She paused for an even longer time. Finally, she sighed, and put the bottle down on the nightstand. She sat down on the bed and laid her hands in her lap. "Chelsea," she began.

I held up my hands. "Please, Mom. I don't need to hear this right now."

"Just listen to me," she pleaded, "You know you're father and I have a good life, right?"

I shrugged. "It's what suits you, I guess."

Mom snorted. "It would suit anybody, Chelsea, if everyone had the chance to live like we do. And you know I've always wanted what's best for you."

"What's your point?" I asked, though I already knew.

"This prince you've told me about . . . well, he could give you those things. You could come back to the city. You could see us so much more often, and you could have anything you want. Doesn't that appeal to you?"

I blinked at her. Didn't she know me at all? "Mom. I hate the city," I whispered, "I hate being here. I love my home. I love Sunshine Islands, and all the people living there. They're like my family." It was true. Everyone on the community was like family, because we saw each other every single day. We have our differences of course, but who doesn't?

"Well, I know, baby. That's not really the point."

I was thoroughly surprised. Mother hadn't called me 'baby' since I was a small child.

"I just think you would be happier, is all," she said.

"How could you know?" I continued to whisper. "Money . . . it doesn't mean as much me as it does to you. Love is more important . . ."

Mother's eyes widened. "Do you love him?" she asked, tilting her head towards the guest room so I knew who she meant.

I hesitated, but eventually answered, "No, I don't."

"Well, then. Give the prince a chance, Chelsea. He might be the man of your dreams."

_More like _your_ dreams, _I thought unhappily. "You're only thinking of money," I repeated.

"It makes the world go 'round," she replied, all merrily.

"You're disgusting," I snapped, "Is that why you married Dad?"

She stood up immediately as if she was on fire. Her mouth hung slightly agape, and her eyes went wide. "Chelsea Dianne Montgomery – you take that back."

I stared back at her, my eyes and voice cold. "No."

Mother continued to stare for a moment before turning and stalking out of the room.

* * *

Fifteen minutes or so later, there was a quiet knock on my door.

"Come in," I said tonelessly. I wasn't sure how I felt about the fight between Mother and me – on one hand, I felt terribly, but on the other, I had wanted to ask her that question for a very long time.

The room was almost completely black now, so I could make out nothing but a dark shadow moving towards the bed. It didn't take long to recognize him, of course. When he reached the bed, he hesitated, and then sat down.

His strangely colored eyes flashed in the dim light. "Did you fight with your Mom?" Vaughn wondered.

"Yes. How did you know?" I thought we'd been rather quiet.

"She was yelling. I heard her in her room, downstairs. Think she was throwing things, too."

"Oh. I'm sorry," I apologized, studying his face and thinking about how attractive he was, "you shouldn't have to hear that. Did it bother you badly?"

He shrugged. "No. She probably deserved whatever you said."

I snorted at his blunt honesty. That was Vaughn, I supposed. "I think she did," I whispered, "but I can't be sure."

"What was it about?" he asked.

"Nothing of consequence," I lied.

"Something about me?"

I rubbed at my eyes. The Nyquil was beginning to take effect. "No."

"I can tell when you're lying, you know," he told me, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You fidget, and you can't make eye contact."

I shrugged. "And how have you noticed these things?"

He stared at me for a long second before answering. Once again, I couldn't understand it his expression. He was so good at hiding his emotions. "I pay attention," he said finally.

"To all people?" I asked.

"No. Only the interesting ones."

"Who are the others?" I wanted to know.

He bit his lip and looked away, out the window. "Just you," he mumbled.

I sighed and stared at his profile. Sometimes – like now – I could almost be positive he felt an inkling of what I did. But others . . . like when he'd been so distant . . . pretending I didn't even exist . . . well, it hurt, to say the least.

"Vaughn . . ." I trailed off, not sure what to say. My voice was a little heavy.

He looked at me again. "You should sleep."

"You should, too." I yawned.

"I will," he promised.

"Stay just a while longer," I mumbled, my eyes beginning to close.

"Alright."

It started to rain, only lightly. I could hear the drops pattering against the window – it made the silence oddly peaceful. I sighed in contentment – just his presence was enough to relax me completely. I was so relaxed, in fact, that I almost jumped when I felt fingers on my face, my cheek. I didn't, of course. I forced my eyes to stay closed, my breathing to stay even. I knew that, if I woke up, he would take his hand away and pretend like it never happened. His fingers very lightly stroked my cheek, my jaw.

Then he moved. He leaned forward very quietly, and I felt the lightest pressure of lips on my forehead. It felt like my heart would jump from my chest. The sound of its beating was so unbelievably loud to my ears – all because of a small kiss and some small, innocent caresses. He pulled back and touched my cheek again.

"Chelsea . . ."

He breathed my name once. I fought to keep breathing evenly, wanting to hear what he would say next. But he sighed, almost in frustration it seemed, and he pulled his hand away. I was instantly sad at the loss. It felt so natural when he touched me, so right . . . I heard footsteps, so I opened my eyes just a bit to watch him go.

* * *

"I'm not sure when you should visit again, Chelsea. I've very put-out with you right now," Mother huffed.

Vaughn and I both stood outside the house, next to a beautiful path of blooming flowers. My cold felt much better, but I could still feel a touch of it, in my throat. It was almost evening now. I had initially planned on staying longer, but I had to get out of the house. I had to get home. I didn't think Mom really wanted me to stay, anyway.

"I don't know, either, Mom. Maybe I'll call you." I hated being on such bad terms with her – we still hadn't talked anything out. My purpose for coming here hadn't been fulfilled. I would just have to let bygones be bygones for a while – I wouldn't lose sleep at night over it.

"Goodbye," she snapped, irritated with my response. Mother shut the door, leaving us standing together on the porch, my black suitcase in my hand.

I looked up at Vaughn was a small smile. All day, when I looked at him, all I could think about was last night. "I guess you're going back to your apartment now, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah." "And I'll see you Monday?"

"Yes."

I continued to smile, probably like an idiot. "See you then," I said.

The parting words seemed so inadequate, but I didn't know what else to say. I knew it would only make him uncomfortable to be thanked again, yet I couldn't seem to leave it like that. "Thanks again."

He sighed. "Friends do things like that, don't they?"

"Yes," I admitted, "They do. Only good ones, though."

"Anyone else on the Islands would do the same."

"Maybe, maybe not," I grumbled, "Goodbye."

I turned and stalked down the driveway. He caught up with me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to a stop.

When I looked up, he looked pained. "Chelsea, don't do this . . . not again, not now."

"I'm not," I snapped, "I'll see you later."

It wouldn't even surprise me if he went back to being cold and distant. God forbid he show a little bit of emotion and then take pride in it. I boarded the boat that evening, chugging back a tall glass of wine at the bar, not even caring what it did to my system. I didn't want to think normally – maybe it would feel good to be a little hazy. I stared out into the waves until the Islands came into view.

When I stumbled onto the dock, I hurried home, thankfully not running into anybody.

* * *

Julia sat with me for tea the next morning. "Everything went well when you were gone," she said, "Every chicken is accounted for. Cookie is really cute, you know."

"Thanks," I said. I wasn't in the best mood – I had a bit of a hangover, and my now my head and my throat both hurt.

"I'm sorry you got sick when you were away," she went on, "I felt terribly for you. I talked to your Mom a little bit on the phone."

"I know," I grumbled sharply.

"What's with the tone?"

"Well, thanks to you, she was on me every second of every day about Will. She wants me to be with him. For the money," I said bluntly.

Julia blinked and paused. "Well, I didn't mean anything by it, Chelsea. I assumed you would tell her yourself."

"Maybe I wasn't going to," I snapped, "Maybe you should let me make my own decisions and not interfere with my life."

She knew what I was talking about, and it certainly wasn't her phone calls with my Mother. Julia rubbed one of her temples. "I thought you were happy now."

"I'm . . . content, for lack of a better word. I like Will. He's a great guy," I said honestly, "And it would be fine for me to be with him, it's just . . ."

"It's for the best, Chelsea," Julia said quietly.

I stood up, almost seething with anger. "Don't you dare tell me what's _best _for me. You're not my Mother – thank God for that. I don't ever want to see her again."

"Chelsea, please sit down," she begged.

I did, hesitantly. When I spoke again, I was whispering. "Julia. Listen to me a minute, without interrupting, please?"

She nodded.

I drew in a deep breath before beginning. "Julia, how would you feel if you knew that Elliot had . . . problems from the past? Would you love him less? Would it keep you away from him?"

"No," she admitted, "But I would stay away if I knew that was what he wanted. And besides, it's different. I love Elliot."

"I know," I breathed, "it's different. I just want you to back off a little, okay?" I felt so overwhelmed. Mostly, I wanted to start crying here at the table, and go on for a long time. I didn't even know my own feelings anymore.

Julia saw my distress. Wordlessly, she rose, walked to me, and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "I'm sorry, Chelsea. I'm so sorry," she whispered, and it sounded like she was crying herself. She spoke again in my ear. "You're right, Chelsea, of course you are. Nothing could ever keep me from Elliot – nothing. I love him so much . . . I just – you have to understand. I didn't know you cared about him that much . . ."

"I don't." The tears were leaking out of my eyes now. "How could I? I haven't known him that long, and he's sort of a jerk." I laughed bitterly at that.

She pulled away, and her eyes were indeed teary. "I know. But he loves Mirabelle and me. He cares for you, too, you know," she said quietly, "He talks about you sometimes. He doesn't come out and say it, of course, but I can tell."

It was nice to hear. But of course, it didn't change anything. "This conversation pointless, Julia," I sighed, "Nothing can ever happen with us. He doesn't want it to."

"He has good intentions," she said. She was quiet for a moment, and suddenly her eyes were very far away. "Chelsea, I love my cousin. So much. But you probably can't even imagine how haunted he is right now. I don't think he ever really stops thinking about the past."

She gave me an odd look. I suddenly remembered that Julia didn't know that I knew the truth. And suddenly I had to tell her.

"I know about what happened, Julia. I know about Marissa."

Her eyes widened. She suddenly looked so shocked it might have been funny under different circumstances.

"He told you?" she breathed.

"Yes."

"That's . . ." she trailed off. "Chelsea, he doesn't _tell _people. He never has. Maybe . . . maybe you mean more to him than I thought. I can't believe it."

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter now, Jules."

"I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"Not your fault." I stood up again, because suddenly this conversation was too much to handle. "I have to go," I said, "I need to be alone."

She nodded and let me go.

* * *

Will caught up to me a day later. We bumped into each other on Meadow Island – I was fishing there.

"Chelsea!" He smiled. "You didn't tell me you were back."

I smiled back, truly happy to see his grin. "I didn't see you around," I lied.

"Well, you're here now. I missed you so." He leaned forward to kiss my lips.

I waited, trying to force some kind of romantic feeling from my body. But it only felt comfortable. Nice. Nothing passionate. "I missed you, too," I said.

"Have you heard of Julia's party?" he wondered.

"Nope." "It's sort of a Spring-is-here-at-last sort of thing. I'm looking forward to dancing with you." His eyes shone happily. Last winter _had _been harsh – the temperatures were harsh and bitter. It made sense to have a little party to celebrate the fact that things were back to normal. I'd gotten the majority of my crop-planting done this morning, and I was having Gannon build a barn soon. After this little party, probably.

"When is it?" I asked.

"Monday."

_Of course. Can't have a party without a bit of torture. _I managed a weak smile.

"I look forward to it."

* * *

Will came to my farmhouse Monday afternoon, to escort me to the party. Julia hadn't bothered asking me to help with arranging things this time – she probably knew I wasn't up for it right now. I had dressed in a long black skirt and a short-sleeved shirt with lacy trim. Lanna's borrowed dangly earrings hung my from ears, and my hair was pinned up elegantly.

"Breathtaking," Will said, kissing my cheek.

"Thanks." I smiled, and took his arm.

Part of me was dreading this party. The other was anticipating it, because I always wanted to see Vaughn. Every day. All the time. The party was held on Sprout Island, like before. I assumed we do essentially the same things – the same decorations were strewn about. People had already arrived and were beginning to nibble on some of Pierre's delicious entrees.

Julia came over to hug me hello. "Hi," she said, smiling.

I grinned. "Hi."

Will pulled me to the buffet table, and we ate. He continued to compliment and adore me. I would be lying if I said it wasn't nice. It was comfortable to be around him. Vaughn was the last one to arrive. He hung around the edge of the party, looking around and frowning unhappily. How he despised social gatherings. I wanted to go over to him, but I would need some sort of excuse.

When Lanna turned the stereo on and music began to come from the speakers, it seemed I had been given exactly what I wanted. I didn't want to come out and ask Will if it was alright, though. It seemed . . . weird?

Denny came to my rescue.

"Mind if I steal her for a minute?" he asked.

Will shook his head. "Have her back shortly, though."

"'Course," Denny chuckled, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the other dancing people.

"What's this about?" I asked, smiling at him fondly. Denny always seemed like the big brother I never had.

He shrugged, acting all nonchalant. "Can't I want to dance with a pretty girl?"

"Yeah. I just thought her preferred the blonde ones," I chuckled.

He snickered. "Yeah – no offense, Chels, I'm just like that."

"I'll just have to fight harder for you," I joked.

He laughed loudly. "Good luck."

I hadn't noticed up until now that he had actually been leading me somewhere. We stood almost next to Vaughn now – my eyes widened as I realized this.

Denny put his mouth close to my ear and whispered, "You're welcome."

He suddenly let go of me and ran off to Lanna, who was waiting by the stereo. I rolled my eyes at Denny and slowly turned to face Vaughn.

"Hi," I breathed.

He half-smiled. "Hey."

I didn't waste time being nervous. I didn't want to feel that way tonight. "I know you probably don't do this sort of thing, but . . . dance with me?"

He blinked and stared for a moment. "I don't usually . . ." he hedged.

I frowned, waiting for rejection.

But then he smirked again. "Just this one, I guess."

And suddenly his arms were around me, his hand on the small of my back, the other holding my hand. His face was so close, so mind-scatteringly close. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him. He began to move, and I followed his lead. It surprised me to see that he actually did know how to dance.

"This is nice," I said after a minute. Extreme understatement.

"Yes," he agreed softly.

t that moment, a song began to play that I knew. It was called "Falling for you" by Colbie Caillat.

_I don't know but  
I think I maybe  
Fallin' for you  
Dropping so quickly  
Maybe I should  
Keep this to myself  
Waiting 'til I  
Know you better_

He began to move slower, and I leaned my head against his chest, so content. In my head, I sang along.

_I am trying  
Not to tell you  
But I want to  
I'm scared of what you'll say  
So I'm hiding what I'm feeling  
But I'm tired of  
Holding this inside my head_

I chuckled quietly to myself once. I'd been trying for quite some time to hide my feelings for him. Granted, he knew how I felt, but I stopped showing him, because I knew it caused him pain. And I had been so frightened by what he would say . . . rightly so.

_I've been spending all my time  
Just thinking about ya  
I don't know where to  
I think I'm fallin' for you  
I've been waiting all my life  
And now I found ya  
I don't know where to  
I think I'm fallin' for you  
I'm fallin' for you_

I couldn't love him. It was too early, too soon. And besides, if I did, I was truly screwed, wasn't I?

_As I'm standing here  
And you hold my hand  
Pull me towards you  
And we start to dance  
All around us  
I see nobody  
Here in silence  
It's just you and me_

I wanted to snort at the irony. It would be so easy to forget that there were other people here. Just to pretend we were alone, together . . .

_I'm trying  
Not to tell you  
But I want to  
I'm scared of what you'll say  
So I'm hiding what I'm feeling  
But I'm tired of  
Holding this inside my head_

I've been spending all my time  
Just thinking about ya  
I don't know where to  
I think I'm fallin' for you  
I've been waiting all my life  
and now I found ya  
I don't know where to  
I think I'm fallin' for you  
I'm fallin' for you

I sighed and just reveled in the feeling of being in his arms during the chorus.

_Oh I just can't take it  
My heart is racing  
The emotions keep spinning out_

I've been spending all my time  
Just thinking about ya  
I don't know where to  
I think I'm fallin' for you  
I've been waiting all my life  
and now I found ya  
I don't know where to  
I think I'm fallin' for you  
I'm fallin' for you  
I think I'm fallin' for you

I can't stop thinking about it  
I want you all around me  
And now I just can't hide it  
I think I'm fallin' for you

He swayed with me slowly. We passed a few couples dancing on the sand, and of those couples were Julia and Elliot. Her stance mirrored mine; Elliot's arms were around her, and she leaned her head on his chest. The only difference was that she didn't have that much room to lean down. For a second, I tensed, wondering how she would react.

But when her serene blue eyes met mine, she smiled. It wasn't the I'm-being-polite sort of smile. It was meaningful, it was . . . approving? She glanced up at Vaughn's face. I couldn't see his expression, so I wondered what she saw. She continued to smile when she looked away, so I assumed it was good. Could she finally beginning to let go of her cautious protectiveness?

_I'm fallin' for you_

Ooohhh  
Oh no no  
Oooooohhh  
Oh I'm fallin' for you.

The song began ended much too much too soon. I wanted to keep dancing, keep thinking, keep reasoning . . . Vaughn sighed, seemingly reluctant, too. He let go of me and stepped away. The same wistfulness I'd seen back at my parents' house was back in his eyes.

"I should get back," he said.

I nodded. "If you want."

Will came up behind me and placed a hand on my arm. "Goodbye, Vaughn," he said cheerfully.

Vaughn frowned at him. "Bye." He turned and began walking towards Vendure Island.

Will's brows pulled together. "Something wrong?" he asked me, reaching up a hand to stroke my cheek.

"No," I murmured, looking after Vaughn with what I hoped was an indifferent expression.

Will blinked, shrugged, and then whispered in my ear. "Dance with me, fair maiden?"

I smiled a bit at his nickname, and allowed him to pull me to where the other danced. A new song began to play, but I didn't recognize this one. As usual, it was nice to dance with Will, but my mind was elsewhere. I tried not to think about how that particular song was similar to my life now . . . . Still, as I leaned against Will and closed my eyes, I imagined.

I wondered what might happen if the song was true.

**A/N: Ack. I have a cold. Kind of ironic, huh? Anyway, do you like the song? I thought it fit in nicely with the story line. It's pretty good - go listen to it if you ever get a chance. Vaughn's little hat-tipping gesture was for Windragonwolf, but the way. ****I know Chelsea seems like she's in a really bad place right now, depressed and everything, but V & C are making progress. Trust me. Also, if you're wondering why she is denying the love for our favorite cowboy, it's because things she knows her situation would be even worse if she was actually in love with him. She's trying to avoid the pain. **

**Oh - I wrote a oneshot called Dreams. Go look at it, if you're ino Charlie/Eliza at all. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest moon or Falling for You. This goes for the rest of the story. **


	11. Just Maybe

_11: Just Maybe _

The day after the party, I tried to stay away from people. I wanted to be alone, to be able to think and ponder without anyone interrupting or telling me what they thought was best for me. I needed to think for _me,_ not anyone else.

But where to go for peace?

Someone might come up to visit me on my land. There was always at least one person wondering around Meadow Island. It was pretty desolate on Volcano Island most of the time, but the place gave off something of a creepy aura to me. And there was always the chance of running into Regis . . . I shuddered. So where? I eventually decided on Mystic Islands. The other Islanders almost never went there, and the four people who lived there were usually inside their buildings.

When I stepped out onto the dock, I decided that there actually _was_ someone I wanted to see. I wasn't sure why. One of the nice things about Spring was that pretty patches of flowers grew everywhere. I hurriedly plucked one from the grass and tossed it in, totally unsure about what I would say. Almost as soon as the flower hit the water, the mystical mist and glitter appeared. The Harvest Goddess seemed to sit on air as she admired the offering.

When she looked up to meet my eyes, she was smiling joyously. "Thank you, Chelsea – I love these." With that, it disappeared from her hands, gone to some to some supposedly mythical place I could only imagine. "How lovely to see you."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You haven't made much progress since the last time we spoke," she noted.

Her observation didn't sound harsh or judgmental at all; it was simply a statement I could choose whether or not to discuss. She was leaving it up to me. I didn't really want to talk about that, but she had such high hopes for me, it seemed rude not to give her some sort of explanation.

"I've been . . . distracted."

The Harvest Goddess did not seem surprised. "While I would normally discourage letting your work suffer due to problems with your social life, I feel like, in this case, you deserve a bit of sympathy."

"Thanks," I grumbled, looking away. "I'm having Gannon build me a barn tomorrow."

"Excellent," the Harvest Goddess rejoiced.

I could not bring myself to be properly happy. Ever since I woke up this morning, I hadn't been able to get last night out of my head. I had wanted to hold onto the moment of us dancing forever, but, as all good things do, it had to come to an end. Even when Will walked me to the door and kissed me goodnight, I still thought about it. When I tried to think of other things, the memory was there, the constant nag in my brain.

What was almost ominous about the whole thing what that it seemed like there was something missing, like there was some huge revelation that was lurking around the edges of my mind. I was trying to discover what it was, but it continued to evade me. All I knew was that it had something to do with Vaughn. I snorted quietly to myself and stared out into the sea. Was there anything in my life nowadays that didn't relate to him in some way?

"You have something on your mind," the Harvest Goddess said, watching me patiently.

I managed a weak little smile. "Yes. But I'm used to it."

"Care to share?"

I still didn't know what I wanted to say. I finally decided on trying to voice my thoughts as best I could without getting all bewildered and mixed up. Even if I did, she was just going to have to deal with it.

I took a deep breath. "I'm so confused – I don't know what to think right now. I know that nothing has changed between us, but it feels like something _has_. On my part, anyway." The words were meant to sound calm and sure, but it sounded like babble.

The Harvest Goddess raised an eyebrow. "By 'between us', I assume you mean yourself and Vaughn?"

I nodded. "Yes."

She smiled. "I think I may know what you mean."

"What is it?" I asked, almost pleaded.

She laughed a clear, beautiful sound. "I'm not going to tell you your own feelings, Chelsea."

"It's driving me nuts," I groaned.

She smirked. "You'll just have to figure it out for yourself."

* * *

I went back to Vendure Island, more frustrated and irritable than I had been when I was leaving here. I needed a break away from all this drama in my life. So I set my mind completely on my work. I hurried to Gannon's and asked him to start building the barn today. He readily agreed and set off for my land within twenty minutes of my visit.

After that, I went fishing on the remote, secluded place of Lighthouse Island – I didn't know why I didn't think of it before. I wasn't even sure if the other Islanders knew of its existence. I found a sunstone hidden among the ruins of the Lighthouse, so that was a plus. I focused on nothing but the fishing line, waiting and ready the second it tensed or moved even remotely.

By the time I had a hearty amount of fish – most of them little, but whatever – I was actually feeling a little at peace. It couldn't last, though. Of course not. After I was finished dumping my fish into the shipping box outside Taro's house, I turned and saw Will hurrying towards me, coming from Sprout Island.

"Chelsea!" He wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug, which I returned, ignoring the usual sense of wrong. He kissed my cheek, then my lips. He flashed me a smile that was even happier than his usual ones. And that was really saying something.

"Why are you so happy?" I inquired, genuinely curious. Momentarily, I wondered if he would be offended by the question.

But he only kept grinning and answered immediately, his voice rushed and excited. "I've just received word from my parents that they want me to visit them soon. I was thinking that I would leave Monday."

"Oh." It was wrong for that to make me happy, wasn't it? I was a horrible person. "I'm sure you'll have fun."

Will frowned, and stared like I was missing something completely obvious. When I failed to understand, he smirked, rolled his eyes, and reached up to stroke my cheek. "Chelsea, of course I want you to come with me. My parents would be delighted to meet you."

Panic seized me momentarily, and my breath caught in my throat. He wanted me to meet his parents? Did he think our relationship had gotten that serious? Was I overreacting? He had every right to feel this way. Still . . .

He misread the hesitation in my eyes. His eyes softened, and he brought my hand to his lips and kissed each individual knuckle. "You don't have to be worried. They will adore you, just as I do."

I blinked. "Will, I appreciate your offer and everything, but . . . well, Julia just got done watching the ranch for me and I wouldn't want to ask her again . . ."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind. I could pay her, if you wish."

"No!" I snapped, horrified by that offer.

He dropped my hand and looked apologetic. "I'm sorry – it was terrible of me to suggest such a thing. But please, Chelsea, I really want you to come with me. I need you, to, in fact."

I searched my mind, trying to grasp straws at getting out of this. I struggled to find that professional part of me – that emotionless, this-is-how-it's-going-to-be part of me – that knew that eventually things would get serious with Will. That he would want me to meet my parents, that he would fall in love with me, that – in the future – he might want to marry me. And how could I deny him any of those things when I had been leading him on the entire time?

No – that wasn't the right term. Leading someone on implies building up their hopes, only to dash them in the worst way possible. My stomach did sort of an odd flip when it suddenly hit me how far with this I was actually planning to go. I was surprised at the actual, physically-there pain that twisted in my heart.

Suddenly I wondered if this was the right thing to do at all. Was it really so wise to get involved with someone, in effect sealing the deal that nothing could ever happen with me and Vaughn? Would it be better to wait around, hoping with everything I had he would eventually escape his demons long enough to be with me? As this came crashing down on me, Will was still staring at me with wide, anxious blue eyes. It would break his heart if I told him no. And I just couldn't do that to him.

"Alright," I said, "I'll go."

"Splendid!" he cried, leaning forward to kiss me abruptly, entangling one of his hands in my hair. I kissed back halfheartedly, my mind still elsewhere.

When he broke away, breathless and exultant, he said, "I'll ask Julia for you, alright? We'll have a wonderful time, even in the city!"

He squeezed both my hands in his behind whirling and walking away.

* * *

Julia had once again agreed to watch my ranch for me, even with the new addition of Lola, my newly acquired black and white calf, purchased for me by none other than a very enthusiastic Taro. I told her many times over that I appreciated her doing this for me, but part of me wondered if she saw the reluctance in my eyes. It was four-thirty on Monday morning, and I was meeting my best friend for tea before I left.

Will and I had arranged to meet at the docks close to five thirty, because that's when the boat arrived. Just as I was about to leave the Animal Shop with my borrowed black suitcase, Julia hugged me tightly.

When she pulled back, her eyes were probing. "Is this okay? I mean, are you alright with this?"

"More or less," I sighed, "I told myself I was going to be with Will. It's part of the description, you know?"I wanted to laugh at the tone of my voice. I sort of made it sound like a job. A job I did not like much and might resign from soon.

Julia closed her eyes, as if in pain. "I want you to be happy. That's the whole reason I wanted you to move here. If I had known all this would happen . . ."

"Hey," I said, waiting until she met my eyes before speaking again, "I wouldn't change it. I would move here a million times over."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yep. Best thing I've ever done," I said truthfully.

"My cousin might come around." She sounded hopeful. "You never know."

"I'm not counting on it, Julia," I whispered.

The clock on the wall reminded me that I had to get going. "Bye, see you Friday." I whirled and hurried out the door into the brisk morning. I walked swiftly toward the dock on Sprout Island, where Will was already waiting with his own tan suitcase.

He hugged me hello. "We'll have such a wonderful time," he repeated for what must have been the thousandth time.

"I know." It actually did amuse me to see him so excited, so my smile was real.

I squinted into the distance and saw the boat approaching. Will took hold my hand and we waited. It pulled up alongside the dock. We both began walking down the dock, so we could board.

But, of course, fate had cruelly made me forget that today was Monday.

Vaughn stepped out onto the dock and in front of us, his eyes widening momentarily at our suitcases before looking carefully impassive again. I hated that expression on his face. It seemed so . . . fake, so apathetic and emotionless. My heart sped up, though, and I looked him over inconspicuously the same way I always did after a week of his absence.

Will nodded cheerfully to him. "Good morning, Vaughn."

Will carefully stepped around him, heading up the ramp and onto the deck. He tried to pull me along, but my hand slipped out of his intentionally as I stood before Vaughn with a pained expression. Did it affect him at all, me leaving with Will for a reason unknown to him? For a few seconds, all we did was stare at each other, and then – for just a moment – his eyes betrayed him, showing a flash of hurt. For some reason, at that moment, part of a conversation we'd had in the past came back to me. We were on this beach, in front of Denny's house.

"_I can't get rid of the anger, the sadness, the . . . guilt. I don't want you to have to deal with all that. But that the same time . . ._ _I don't know. I don't want you with someone else, either_._" He shook his head._

"_That's a bit of a double standard, isn't it?" _

"_Yeah, it is." _

I closed my eyes for a second at the memory, and the guilt I was wracked with at the moment was unbearably strong. It that instant, I was determined to tell him that I was going to stay. I was going to break it off with Will and tell Vaughn that I would wait forever for him.

Because I wanted to be with him.

And, part of me – I wasn't sure how big – thought he wanted, me, too. I'd seen it before, in small ways. Fleeting glances . . . slight hints of affection . . . the tortured, yet adoring way he whispered my name back in the city . . . Yes, I was going wait for Vaughn. How could I not have been doing that all along?

When I opened my eyes, though, all thoughts of my previous plan had to be put on hold. Vaughn no longer looked indifferent – he looked angry. Flat out mad. But there was still the hurt in his eyes, hidden behind the rage. If I hadn't spent so much time trying to get to know him, I would never have noticed it. His glare was so severe it reminded me of when we'd first met. The intensity of it made me flinch.

He took a deep breath . . . and began walking past me. I assumed he would stalk off. I thought the glare was enough to plague me for the five days I would be away. But of course, with his harsh nature, he wasn't about to leave it at that. Just as he passed, his hand reached up to rest lightly on my arm.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Have fun with your prince."

I flinched again. His voice was so cold, so completely dismissive . . . it was like he didn't even know me. Like I was just another random person he was annoyed and rude with. He didn't give me the chance to reply – he turned and walked away without looking back. I stood, as if frozen in place, while my heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces.

"Chelsea?" Will called in concern, "Are you coming?"

Swallowing heavily, fighting tears, I looked up and tried to smile. It probably ended up looking like a messed-up grimace, but I couldn't find it in me to care. Robotically, I picked up my suitcase, boarded the boat, and pulled away from my home.

* * *

I told Will that I didn't feel well on the boat – which wasn't a lie at all – and went to lay down in one of the mini bedrooms the boat had for when their voyages lasted for long periods of time. I lay back on one of the beds and closed my eyes.

For a moment, I thought of nothing at all. I just lay there peacefully, preparing my mind for the surely harsh thoughts that were going to come to me. The thing, though, was that I wanted to be rational as I thought about this. I wanted to be coherent and logical, because if I wasn't, well, it would be so easy to make the wrong decision.

Whatever that was.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. The image of Vaughn's expression came to mind before I could stop it, and suddenly I was crying. There wasn't anything that could be done to stop it, no matter how reasonable I wanted to be. Sometimes I just had to cry. It made me feel a little better. I wasn't thinking about his glare, his words. I was thinking of his pain. It cut me so deeply.

I never wanted to be the source of his unhappiness ever again. But it wasn't really my fault, was it? Despite what I had thought about before he turned angry and mean, I honestly couldn't wait _forever_. That was a very long time.

Wasn't I entitled to have at least second-best, or did he want to take that from me, too? The more I thought about it, the more the pain and sadness turned into my own anger. There was nothing wrong with what I was doing. Absolutely nothing. How dare he try to convince me otherwise.

* * *

"Finsbury Street?" I asked, shocked. I probably shouldn't have been – really, it wasn't a surprise Will's parents lived on the one street in this city where the gorgeous, millions of dollars houses were.

As a child, whenever we drove down that particular street, I would marvel how huge and luxurious the houses were.

"Daddy," I had asked – or so I'd been told – when I was four, "Do kings and queens live in those houses?"

My father had laughed said no – they were just regular people who happened to have lots of money. A _lot. _My parents were fairly wealthy, but the people who lived here were positively loaded.

"Yes," Will said, laughing at my surprised expression.

We had been in the city for an hour now – we'd hailed a cab and were currently minutes from reaching our destination. I actually was a little nervous – even if I wasn't wholeheartedly romantically involved with their son, I still worried what they would think of me. Will continued to assure me they would love me, but I couldn't be so sure. When we pulled up in front of the immense, three-story house on the corner, a maid immediately came outside to take our bags indoors.

"We can do it ourselves, milady," Will said, but the maid waved it off, saying she had been specifically told to do this for us when we arrived.

Will took my hand and led me inside. It was just as breathtaking there – it put my relatively middle class home to shame.

"Mother? Father?" Will called out very formally.

"William? Is that you? Come in here," called a woman's voice.

We went into the huge living room, decorated with things more expensive than everything I owned combined. A woman sat on a long leather couch in front of a bricked fireplace. Her hair was long and shiny, her eyes big and blue, with dangly earrings and a sparkly jeweled necklace.

Overall, she actually reminded me of my mother – they both seemed to put the same amount of stock into their appearance. The woman rose gracefully and held out a perfectly manicured hand. Will stepped into her hug, grinning widely.

"Hello, Mother," he said happily.

She hugged him a long time before he finally stepped away. Will's Mother looked me over for a much longer time than would be considered polite. I got the impression that she was trying to soak in every detail about me that she could and – from the brief flash of a frown on her red lips – I didn't think she cared for what she saw.

Will was oblivious. "Mother, this is Chelsea, the girl I adore."

"Hmm," his Mother said. She held out a hand for me to shake. Hesitantly, I took it.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Regison," I managed formally.

"You may call me Joan." She smiled a small, tight smile that might have been forced.

"Thank you. I love your home," I added customarily.

Will seemed delighted by our little exchange; his eyes darted between the two of us excitedly. How could he not see how closely Joan was examining me?

"Deana, my maid, will show you to your rooms," said told us professionally, glancing at a huge grandfather clock next to the fireplace. "Take some time to settle in. Be down for dinner promptly at five."

Two days passed without incident. I met Will's father, who was simply his mother as a male – professional, to-the-point, carefully observing. It seemed like the both of them were always watching my every move. I always felt so self-conscious around them. I couldn't help but feel like they didn't approve of me.

Most of me didn't really care, but that little, puffed-up arrogant side wanted them to approve. I was likable. I had lots of friends as a child, in school. So what was it about me that made them look at me like I was some kind of poisonous viper, poised to strike at any moment? I didn't know. After receiving what seemed like thousands of these glances, however, I decided to shove the arrogant side me away and focus on Friday.

I wanted to get away from here. I'd already spent too much time here in the city; I hadn't been home long at all before leaving again. I swore that this time I would stay home for as long as I could – it was where I belonged. Aside from the subtle hostility, the actual house was very luxurious and lavishing, just as I knew it would be.

The guest room, where I stayed, contained a four-poster bed, another fireplace, and threw huge bookshelves with books on almost every subject I could think of. None of that mattered to me, though. Will seemed content to spend time with his parents, too, but it became clear soon enough that he missed the Islands very much. Not as much as me, but enough.

"I hadn't realized how much Sunshine Islands has grown on me," he had said the morning after we arrived.

"They are a wonderful place," I had agreed.

"Mother and Father want me to continue exploring the world. They want me to study in all Europe's best cities. But I don't think I will. As much as I detest the idea of going against their wishes, I simply must stay at my . . . home. I believe I shall stay forever."

He'd turned his shining blue eyes to my face. "Will you stay with me?"

I had looked away and felt a pang of pain in my chest. "Maybe," I'd mumbled.

He'd seemed a little annoyed with my response, but I didn't give him the chance to talk about it because I'd left the room rather quickly after that. I'd been thinking about Vaughn for the past two days. I missed him. So much. Sometimes I would stop at random points during the day, wondering why he might be doing at that moment.

Sometimes I would stop and stare longingly at the door, wishing he would appear suddenly the way he had the last time I'd been in the city. But of course he didn't. He starred in my unconscious thoughts, too, but most of those were unpleasant. I kept seeing his glare, his pain, and hearing his awful cold words in my dreams every night. I knew it would continue this way until I got the chance to talk to him again.

I tried to remind myself that it was him who was in the wrong in this situation, but it didn't seem to help. I would just have to wait for Monday. Why was Monday so far away? I sat down to have dinner with Will and his parents that evening – it wasn't such a surprise that they had their own private chef. Joan – and her husband, Avery – ate mostly in silence, as did Will. None of them seemed to speak much when they were together, but at least the quiet was companionable. For them.

Occasionally one of them would glance up and study me when they thought I wasn't looking. Their critical eyes made me uncomfortable.

"Are you enjoying the veil, Chelsea?" Avery asked at one point.

"Very much," I said honestly.

"You must not eat much meat on those Islands you live on," Joan commented, her tone a little sharp, "Is it difficult to be somewhere so primitive all the time?"

"It's actually very peaceful here. Better than the city." I hadn't meant to snap the last bit of my statement; I was just so stressed out.

Joan's eyes narrowed slightly.

Will finally decided to intercede. "The Islands are a wonderful place to live, Mother," he said, "I was thinking about staying there for a while longer."

Joan threw another irritated glance towards me. Did they hold me responsible for their son not traveling the world, as they wanted him to do?

"William," Avery interrupted, his tone carefully professional, "Your Mother and I wish to speak to you after dinner. Alone."

"Surely Chelsea can be present for anything that has to be said," Will argued. He actually seemed a little angry; I'd never seen it before. I didn't like it – it seemed so unlike him. The frown didn't fit his face. It didn't make sense.

"This is a _family _matter," Joan emphasized.

Will opened his mouth to rebuke his Mother's statement, but I interrupted before he could anger them further. "It's alright, Will – I understand."

We ate in silence for the rest of the hour. When the plates were cleared away, Avery stood and gestured for Joan and Will to follow him. They went into the spacious living room, out of my earshot. Of course, being alone did weird things to my thoughts these days, so I decided to eavesdrop. I had to know what they really thought of me.

I crept along the wall in the hall and stood next to the doorway, out of sight but with a truly excellent listening spot. I heard something rustling, so I assumed everyone was sitting down.

After what seemed like a very long silence, Avery finally spoke. "William, Chelsea seems like a perfectly lovely girl, but . . ."

"She's not for you, dear," Joan said.

"Why?" Will asked, annoyed, "She's wonderful."

"You cannot live on those Islands forever. It's simply not proper. She runs a . . . farm. You simply can't marry into that. I won't allow it. You are meant for better things."

I sucked in a nearly-audible breath at the words 'marry into'. Of course it didn't really matter what they said; I already knew Will and I were not truly meant to be together. If we were, I wouldn't be thinking about another person all the time. A person who might currently despise me . . . I winced. Still, it annoyed me that they thought I was basically nothing.

"You mustn't decide how I live my life, Mother," Will said, "I shall marry whomever I please."

"Marry?" Avery sounded surprised. "Do you _plan _on marrying her?"

My entire body froze as I waited for his answer.

Will hesitated. "Perhaps," he muttered eventually.

"You can't, William. That girl is a nothing in society. She lives on isolated Islands and runs a big plot of land with a few pets. And she surely hasn't got much money to her name," Avery went on.

"I have enough for us both," Will snapped.

"Your Mother and I just pictured you with someone of . . . higher class." Avery struggled to remain polite.

Joan made no such efforts. "She's rubbish, William," she said, "Now, I know a few girls in the area that are currently free."

I wasn't sure which emotion I felt was the most prominent – anger or sadness. On one hand, how _dare_ they talk about me in such a way. Perhaps they wouldn't feel this way if they knew my parents were pretty wealthy. I wouldn't take the time to inform them of this little piece of information – it wasn't worth my breath. On the other hand, I wanted to cry. I wanted to be away from here, back to my friends, back to my home . . .

Back to Vaughn.

I wanted to be away from these treacherous people. I wouldn't stay here another minute. I whirled and charged up the stairs, thankfully having the presence of mind to be quiet. I packed all my things, careful not to leave anything behind. I left the suitcase by the door and went downstairs. Will stood in the kitchen now, fuming. His parents were nowhere to be seen.

"Will," I said tonelessly, "I want to go home."

He took a deep breath and turned his sad blue eyes to my face. "You heard us?"

"I heard enough," I replied.

He stepped forward to wrap his arms around me. "It doesn't matter what they think," he said in my ear, "Nothing can come between us. I adore you."

"I know," I answered honestly, "I know."

I let him hug me for several minutes, simply because I felt like he needed to be comforted. But when he pulled back, I added, "But seriously, I need to go home."

He nodded. "Very well, my beautiful Chelsea. We'll leave in the morning."

His parents didn't ask too many questions when we announced our plans to leave early the next morning. His mother merely sighed. His father shook his head and looked away. Will hailed a cab around nine in the morning and we sped away from the docks without looking back.

"They seem like . . . interesting people," I grumbled finally.

"They only want the best for me," he answered.

_Kind of like mine want the best for me, _I muttered in my head. At least his parents had been partially right in what they were saying. The both of us were silent on the boat ride back to the city. He walked me home, kissed my forehead, and left without saying much of anything.

* * *

Will didn't talk to me much for a few days. At first, I thought it was kind of nice not to have to keep up my usual charade. But then I started to feel guilty for avoiding him, so I sought him out. I found him on Volcano Island, talking once again with the treasure-hunting girl, Lily.

"You continue to astound me with your vast knowledge of the world, Lily," Will was saying to her, his eyes shining happily.

Lily smiled. "Someday I will get used to the odd way you speak."

Will laughed. "I think you enjoy it."

Lily shrugged. "Maybe."

I cleared my throat, irritated.

Will turned and grinned at me. "Good morning, Chelsea – isn't it a beautiful Monday morning?"

"It is," I agreed, though, as I spoke, a knot of nervousness was resting in my belly. Really, there had only been one thing I'd wanted to do today – one person I wanted to talk to. But I didn't know if he wanted to speak with me. I didn't think I could take being on the receiving end of his glare again – it hurt too much.

Still, though, if he didn't come find me today – which I did not think he would – I would him. I needed to talk to him.

"Shall we have breakfast at the Café?" Will asked nicely.

"No – I just wanted t say hello. I actually have a lot of work to do today," I lied.

He shrugged, and his eyes flickered to Lily for the shortest part of a second.

"Go with Lily," I encouraged, "It looked like you had lots to talk about."

Will frowned. "Chelsea" –

I held up my hands. "Didn't mean anything by that, Will. See you later."

* * *

I waited until five o' clock in the evening. Honestly, I wanted Vaughn to come to me, not the other way around. I wanted him to apologize. More than that, I wanted him to tell me he was an idiot. I wanted him to realize that he wanted to be with me, and that nothing was going to stop him from doing so. I wanted to kiss him. But, of course, I would get none of those things. Because Vaughn doesn't seek anyone out to apologize.

Sighing, I started walking the Animal Shop determinedly. I had no idea what I was going to say. I just had a vague idea, no details. I pushed the door open and went inside.

Mirabelle smiled at me from behind the counter. "Good evening, Chelsea – come for more chicken feed?"

"Not just yet, Mirabelle," I said, pleased my voice sounded reasonably calm.

"Julia's out with Elliot."

"I'm not here for her, either. Where's Vaughn?" I asked.

Mirabelle blinked in surprise at my question, but she answered after a brief pause. "He's either out back with the animals or in his room."

I decided to try his room first. I pushed the door open without knocking; the anger was boiling inside me, and I was so ready to explode. I could already tell this conversation wouldn't go over well, but it had to happen.

He wasn't in his room, much to my disappointment. But I didn't feel like going to look for him in the other room, so I plopped down on his bed and stared up the ceiling, waiting. I didn't have to wait long. My eyes had closed, so the only thing I heard at first was his voice.

"You know, I remember a time when I could come into my room and you weren't here."

My head snapped up and I glared at him.

Vaughn's overall expression was amused, but beneath the surface was another emotion he didn't let me see.

I sat up, trying to keep a poker face. "I need to talk to you."

He walked in, shut the door, and then leaned against the wall with blank eyes. "What?"

My glare intensified at his nonchalant tone. How could he stand there and act like nothing had happened before I left for the city? "I think you know what," I snapped angrily.

"No, I don't." Vaughn frowned at me now.

"You _do. _Remember when I was boarding the boat to the city? Remember what you said to me? Remember how cold you sounded? Remember how awful that made me _feel?_" My voice was harsh and demanding.

Vaughn shrugged. "I was irritated that day."

I was suddenly standing, and seeing bits of red in my vision. "Don't you lie to me. You had no right to say that, no right!" I seethed, "If I wanted to spend time with Will, then that's my choice."

"You didn't want to go back to the city. You hate it there," he argued.

"So what? It's still not your business!" I would be lying if I said I didn't want him to care. I did want him to care. _Very _much. So much, so, in fact, that he might actually do something about it.

He glowered at me now. "I'll say whatever I damn well please."

I felt tears begin to prickle in my eyes. "You just don't care, do you? You don't care about what you're doing to me. You don't care if your hurt me, because you actually don't like me at all." I tried to walk past him, towards the door. I was done with this whole conversation.

I wanted to be left alone, to mourn in peace. Of course, he didn't let me have that. His hand shot out to grab my arm, not harshly, but enough to make me stop. He pulled me back so I was standing in front of him.

He sighed and reached up a hand to rub his temple, his eyes closed. "I care, Chelsea," he finally muttered, his voice pained.

"It doesn't seem like it," I grumbled.

"I'm . . . sorry." He spoke so softly I wondered if he meant for me to hear it at all. "I just . . . I don't like seeing you with him."

"So you've said," I sighed.

Before, we could get any deeper in the subject, he changed the topic. "So, how _was_ the city?"

I laughed without humor, staring up at his eyes and imagining stroking his cheek. His face wasn't so far from mine at all; all I had to do was look up.

"Awful. Will's parents hated me. Said I was _rubbish_." I had to drop my gaze from his then. There was a short pause.

Then, to my delighted surprise, I felt his gloved hand under my chin, pushing my face back up to look at him. "They're wrong," he said sincerely.

One of the corners of my mouth came up in a weird smile. "You think so?" He seemed so genuine.

"And what exactly do you think of me?" I wondered.

He blinked, obviously unprepared for such a question. I closed my eyes and reveled in the feeling of his fingertips on my skin.

"I think that you are . . . alright," he finally said lamely.

"Alright?" I rolled my eyes, but the pain in my heart was fully present.

I tried to jerk my chin away, but he held it tight. "It's nice to know that I'm _alright _to you," I whispered, somewhat brokenly. Of course he could never feel about me like I did him. He didn't think about me constantly. The highlight of this week was not coming to these Islands. He did not picture what it might be like to _love _me . . .

"Chelsea," he breathed suddenly.

I glanced up to see the most intense expression on his face. His tone reminded me of when we were in the city, with my parents. It sent a pleasant kind of shiver through me. My breathing picked up a little as I stared into those oddly colored eyes. And suddenly I couldn't think of anything . . . except that his head was beginning to bend down towards me. My eyes closed, and I felt his forehead lean against mine. His breathing was a little shaky, too.

Very, very softly, I heard him say, "You're a lot better than just 'alright'."

I felt his hand come up to rest on the side of my face, his thumb slowly stroking my cheek. My heart skipped a beat as I felt his lips press against mine. Of course, this moment of pure bliss could not last. I could never be that lucky. The high, clear voice broke me away from my happy moment.

"Vaughn!"

At the same moment the voice spoke, the door was pushed open. I heard a gasp. My eyes flew open, and Vaughn stepped away from me instantly, looking irritated and somewhat embarrassed at the same time. Julia gaped at the both of us, and the green basket of laundry clothes slipped from her hands to the floor.

"Chelsea?" she finally managed to say, her eyes as wide as plates.

My cheeks burned and my heart began hammering even harder, out of anxiety. I raised my hands up and stepped toward her. "Julia . . ." I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Julia blinked and stared at the both of us for a minute before speaking, her voice a little shaky from surprise. "Chelsea, could I talk to you for a minute?"

I swallowed heavily, and my eyes flickered over to Vaughn. He was looking away, towards the wall, blank again. With a reluctant sigh, I began following my friend out of the room. Just before shutting the door, however, I met his eyes.

Vaughn stared at me for what seemed to be an endless second, before finally giving me a small smile.

I returned the look with a grin. I couldn't help it – happiness was hopping around inside of me, and if I didn't outwardly show it, I might explode. As I followed Julia down the hall, the same idiotic grin was plastered to my face. My thoughts ran together in an incoherent jumble. One stood out more than any of the others, and it was a question. A question that almost made me dance with excitement.

What was going to happen now?

**A/N: So, do you think Vaughn's going to change his mind right about now? **


	12. Revelation

_12: Revelation_

Julia led me into her room without saying a word. When we went in, I sat down on her bed and watched while she shut the door. I couldn't find it in me to be angry with her for ruining my moment with Vaughn. It wasn't her fault, not at all.

"Chelsea . . ." Julia took a deep breath and came to sit down beside me. She closed her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest.

When she finally looked at me again, her voice was almost dazed. "Chelsea, what just happened? With you and my cousin?"

I bit my lip and answered as honestly as I could. "I don't know, Julia. One minute we were glaring and yelling at each other, and the next . . . he's kissing me."

"_He _kissed _you_?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes."

"So what does this mean? Did he change his mind?"

To my pleasant surprise, I saw that she sounded genuinely pleased. "I don't know. You walked in before we could talk about it."

She blushed. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's not really your fault," I sighed. A short silence fell over us. It started raining outside, just a light, calming drizzle.

Something occurred to me. "Julia, why do you suddenly love the idea of Vaughn and me together?" I asked her softly.

She was quiet for several long minutes before she answered. "I don't. I still think there's a ton of things that could go wrong. I just think that . . . if there's a chance he could be happy . . . why not?"

"Do you think he could be happy? With me?" My voice was so soft, I wasn't sure if she heard it.

Apparently she did, because she nodded slowly. "I think so. I've seen the way he looks at you sometimes and . . . well, he's never looked at anyone that way before."

My heart squeezed. "Oh."

"Of course, there's still Will to think about." Julia frowned. "What are you going to do about him?"

"I don't know, Julia. The kiss could have been a totally impulsive thing he regrets now." I chewed on the inside of my cheek at the very real possibility.

"I don't think he does." Julia grinned.

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks. But seriously, I don't know. This whole situation is so messed up."

Another long silence. I listened to the rain again, taking deep, slow breaths. Thinking about how that same feeling of high and happiness raced through me when he kissed me.

Then, out of the blue, Julia suddenly asked, "Do you love him, Chelsea?"

I blinked at her and hesitated. Although he had kissed me, although it seemed like I was more than _alright _to him, I still couldn't allow myself to think like that. I couldn't love him because if this . . . ended badly, I wasn't sure if I could mentally take the pain.

"No."

She stared at me probingly for several long seconds.

I squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. "What?"

Julia shrugged, and her eyes were sad. "I just hope everything works out well for you, Chelsea."

* * *

When I stepped out into the main room of the Animal Shop, Vaughn was talking with Mirabelle, on the other side of the counter. When I came into view, his eyes locked with mine. I couldn't decipher his expression, as I often couldn't. I wanted to talk to him alone right now, but part of me wondered if he wouldn't want to.

I was about to open my mouth to speak when Julia's voice rang out down the hall from her room. "Chelsea, your Mom's on the phone!"

Vaughn made a face at that. I smiled at his reaction. I found it a bit odd that I hadn't even heard the phone ring.

"What does she want?" I called back, not wanting to speak with her right now.

"She says you left something at her house! Your wallet!" Julia yelled.

My face paled a bit at that. I didn't have as much money in that as I did here on the Islands, back at home, but it was still a substantial amount. How could I have forgotten? With grudging reluctance, I realized that this meant I would have to return to the city _again _to retrieve it.

"Tell her I'll come pick it up on Wednesday!" I couldn't go back tomorrow – I had plans to spend the majority of my time on Volcano Island. Though I really didn't want to do it, I was getting a bit annoyed with Regis's irritated glances.

"Okay!" Julia said. She walked down the hall and stood in front of me. "She says that it's probably best if you stay somewhere else while you're in the city."

I sighed and groaned. I supposed I shouldn't really be surprised. Really, I was lucky she'd even called about the wallet. "I'll get a motel, then, I suppose," I grumbled, "And you'll have to watch my ranch."

Julia poked my belly playfully. "With the amount of time you're away these days, you might as well rename it Chelsea's _and _Julia's ranch."

I poked her back and stuck out my tongue at her. "Do you know of any decent motels in the city? The kind that isn't constantly broken into by low-profile thieves?"

"You can stay with me," Vaughn said suddenly.

Shocked, I turned to face him. "You . . . I . . . you don't have to do that," I finally managed to say through my shock.

As per usual, my bewilderment amused him. "I know I don't have to," he told me.

"I don't want to impose," I continued.

"If I thought you were imposing, I wouldn't ask you to stay with me."

His voice sounded very sincere. And suddenly it hit me that his apartment would be a great place to talk without interruptions. "Alright," I agreed eventually, "Thank you."

And then, because he had to add something jerkish, he said, "Just try not to go through my things, hmm?"

But I knew he was playing, because he was smiling slightly. And, though his comment was meant to aggravate me, I couldn't bring myself to be annoyed. Because he was happy. Because we were going to talk about things. Because I might kiss him again.

Julia's eyes flickered between us for a minute before she finally smiled. "Well, it's good you have everything sorted out, Chelsea."

Happiness washed through me. I smiled at her widely. But a small voice in the back of my mind warned me that I was being careless, that I most certainly did _not_ have everything sorted out. That I was setting myself up to get hurt. Against my better judgment, I decided to ignore that voice.

For now.

* * *

Will came to my house for dinner on Tuesday night. I was still a bit surly with him because of his flirtatiousness with Lily. I was not jealous – it was the farthest thing from my mind. Of course, if things went the way I was thinking in the city with Vaughn, it wouldn't bother me in slightest who Will flirted with. I did feel guilty thinking these things around him. He was a sweet, loving person; he didn't deserve to be hurt.

The only thing that kept me from breaking down and telling him everything was that I didn't actually think it would take him long to get over me.

"Chelsea, I adore this dish," he said, as we sat at the table, "It is truly divine."

"Thank you very much," I replied pleasantly.

"I will miss you while you're away," he continued, frowning.

"I won't be long."

"That's not the point. Where will you be staying, by the way? With your parents?" His tone was prying.

I chewed on my lip. He has every right to ask me that, I told myself. Still, I couldn't help the slightly defensive tone of my voice when I answered.

"No – things really aren't going well with them right now. I'm . . . actually going to stay at a friend's."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "You have friends in the city?"

I sighed and averted my eyes, hating the guilt in my stomach, an uncomfortable little knot. "Well, no. I'm staying with Julia's cousin."

"Vaughn?" Will asked, surprised, "I didn't know you two even got along."

I couldn't keep the small smile from my lips. "We don't, most of the time. But he's not so bad, once you get to know him." I was pretty sure I did. Know him. Even though he wasn't as open as a regular person, I still knew.

Will shrugged and fidgeted with the tablecloth. "Hmm. Well, that's . . . hmm."

"Do you mind?" I wondered.

"No." He sounded sincere, but he continued to fidget.

Sighing, I got up to take our plates to the sink.

"How did you even start talking to Vaughn?" Will asked.

I began scrubbing the dishes, wishing he would drop the subject. "I'm not sure," I admitted. Really, it was only curiosity that kept me intrigued with him. And a stupid attraction. But now . . . it seemed like so much more.

"Everything will be fine, Will," I assured him. But my voice was weak. I searched my mind, trying to find something else to talk about.

Finally, I settled on, "So, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Lily discovered some very rare jewels on Volcano Island. She wishes to show them to me."

"You really like her, don't you?" I asked. I glanced over my shoulder long enough to see him turn pink.

"S-she's decent," Will finally mumbled.

"She's pretty," I said quietly, "And knowledgeable. And polite."

Again, he shrugged. Like it was no big deal. I pulled the drain out of the sink and stepped away, wiping my hands on a towel. Turning, I bent down to pick up my overnight bag lying next to the table. Natalie was probably going to start charging me money to rent her suitcase. Will got to his feet and stood in front of me, his eyes sad.

He pulled me close and kissed me. My lips, my cheeks, my nose. I continued to stand there, a bit uncomfortable, when I heard the fatal words. The words that were like a well-deserved punch in the stomach.

"I love you, Chelsea," Will murmured softly.

I blinked, my eyes widening. My breath caught in my throat, and I panicked. He was still kissing my face, so he didn't notice my expression at first. When he pulled back, I had carefully rearranged my mouth into a small smile. Instead of lying, I decided to tell him the truth.

"I love you, too, Will." It was true. I did love him. But it wasn't dissimilar to the way I loved Denny. Or anyone else on the Islands.

His eyes lit up. "I shall see you soon."

He kissed my lips once more before turning towards the door. For a few minutes, I felt exceedingly guilty. This whole thing wasn't fair to him. But, on my way to Sprout Island, I saw him standing outside the Diner with Lily.

So I couldn't really feel that bad.

* * *

Vaughn was waiting on the dock when I arrived. As usual, he seemed very blank, very unfathomable. But when I approached he smiled, just slightly. It was enough for my heart to squeeze, and for the memory of our last exchange to come rushing back. I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed now. Was it alright to kiss him? Hug him, even?

He had kissed me, after all, not the other way around. I decided not to do anything just yet, because he didn't make any move to get closer to me when I stopped right in front of him.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi," he said back.

Silence fell over us, and I fidgeted uncomfortably. Something told me he wanted to wait till we got back to his apartment to talk, though.

"How was your work?" I asked eventually, longing to brush the hair from his eyes.

He shrugged. "It was alright. How was yours?"

"Pretty monotonous. I like it that way, though." I sighed and looked away. I didn't want to make small talk with him right now. And I didn't want to wait.

So, after a deep breath, I glanced up at him. "I need to talk to you."

He nodded like he expected as much. "Later, alright?"

I sighed again, but reluctantly gave in. The boat pulled up alongside the dock, and we boarded without another word. When we both sat down on the bar stools, I couldn't help but remember the last time we had done this. How angry he had made me; how much his words had hurt. I'd run away and hidden in the bathroom for the rest of the trip. It seemed a bit childish to me now, but necessary, at the time. The guy behind the counter asked us what we wanted.

Surprisingly, Vaughn got milk. Chuckling, I did the same.

"What?" he asked when the guy walked away.

I shrugged. "That's not what you usually get."

"I like variety," he said.

Again, silence fell over us, but I didn't let it bother me this time. I could wait a while. When we stepped off the docks and into onto the streets of the bustling city, I sighed in discontentment. I absolutely despised it here. When we turned onto Vaughn's street, he wordlessly reached up to put his arm around me, his hand against my side, barely touching my hip.

"Still a bad neighborhood?" I asked.

I sounded lighthearted, but this place still gave me the creeps. Again, I was quite sure I saw a pair of devilish eyes following us from some dark shadow.

He smirked, amused. "How'd you guess?"

We walked up the stairs to his building, and he unlocked it with the key. Upstairs, he let his arm drop from around me. I sighed again quietly to myself; I hoped he didn't hear. The place looked exactly as I left it, too.

"Does this place ever change?" I wondered aloud.

He shrugged. "I work a lot. Not here that often."

"Hmm." I wondered over to his couch and sat down, hoping he would do the same.

"So, I'm stuck on your couch again tonight, huh?" I joked.

In the dim light, it was hard to tell, but it looked like he was blushing.

"What?" I asked, curious.

"Um . . . well . . ." Vaughn trailed off. "There's actually a guestroom next to the bathroom."

I blinked in surprise for a second. Then my eyes narrowed in irritation. "There was a _guestroom_ and you didn't tell me before?"

He sighed and looked away. "You weren't exactly my favorite person before."

"But I am now?"I teased.

He smiled, suddenly arrogant. "You're alright."

I knew he was just saying that to get under my skin. And it was working. "Speaking of that . . ." I hinted.

His gaze was abruptly very intense. His amethyst colored eyes bored into mine. "Chelsea, I don't really want to talk about it now."

My throat became tight. "Of course not," I whispered, breaking his stare.

He was suddenly right in front of me, his hand under my chin, just like before. "I need to think, okay?" he asked.

I closed my eyes. "Mmm-hmm." At least he had the courtesy to look a little guilty.

"Goodnight." He turned and began walking away.

* * *

Frustration didn't even begin to cover what I was feeling. I wanted to take it out on something. Break, shatter, rip, bite, tear. Anything. But, when I got into the bedroom – which was actually rather nice – I collapsed onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. The hours of apprehension and anxiety had clearly worn me down. I needed to sleep.

I dragged myself off the bed long enough to change into pajamas, but after that I slid under the blankets, closed my eyes, and slept. My dreams offered consolation. I was confused at first, because I was under water, unable to break the surface.

I panicked for a minute before realizing that nothing was happening. In the way of dreams, reality was distorted, and I felt no need to breathe. In a matter of seconds, the familiar green, shiny smoke appeared from nowhere, and the Harvest Goddess stepped out to greet me.

She stared at me for a long time before uttering a single phrase. "Have patience, Chelsea."

And then she was gone. The dream was very short, but when I woke up, it was very dark outside. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was just after two in the morning. I closed my eyes and lay back again, thinking about the dream. Though of course the Harvest Goddess hadn't really snuck into my dreams (hopefully), I could still take comfort from her words. I had already been patient for a very long time, but I could wait a while longer, if she thought it would benefit me. After all, how often was she wrong?

A little happier, I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. After about thirty minutes, though, I realized I might be up for quite a while. I tossed and turned, but for some reason I simply couldn't sink back into unconsciousness. Grumbling, I threw the blankets off myself and stood up – maybe a glass of water would make me drowsy. I opened my door and started padding down the hallway as quietly as I could. I didn't make it into the kitchen, however, because I heard something.

A noise.

I froze in place, because for the moment I had no idea what it was or where it was coming from. It was actually very quiet, but if I concentrated, it sounded a bit like a cry. I listened harder, trying to decipher where it came from. With shock, I realized it originated from behind a door identical to mine, across from the bathroom. Obviously I hadn't been in all the rooms back here, but I thought it was safe to assume it was Vaughn's bedroom.

What else could it be? Biting my lip, I realized that it probably wouldn't be the best idea to go in. In fact, I was just beginning to back away when I heard the sound again. Soft, small, but still a cry. Pain twisted in my heart, and I simply couldn't just go back to bed. I had to go see if he was alright.

So, without waiting to change my mind, I slowly reached up my hand and turned the doorknob. I slowly pushed the door open, thankful that it did not creak. It was very dark inside; the curtains were barely drawn, letting in only a single sliver of light, which ran diagonally across the room.

My eyes scanned the darkness, trying to locate him. Finally, I did. His bed was pushed up against a corner, next to a small square nightstand. His limbs were tangled up in the blankets – without a shirt, the shallower part of my mind added – his breathing fast and uneven. Using the very dim light, I could make out his expression.

He was still sleeping – that much was immediately clear. His jaw was clenched tight, and, every few minutes, he would make a strangled noise in the back of his throat, as if he was in pain. Realization dawned on me, and my heart hurt even more than before. Vaughn was having a nightmare. For a moment, I just stood in the doorway, my hands raised, feeling completely helpless.

Hating the feeling, my feet thoughtlessly began walking towards his bed. My brain did not tell them to – they did it of their own accord. Finally, I stood next to the bed, unsure of what to do now. He continued to look as though he was in pain. Slowly – so slowly – I began to climb onto the bed next to him. When I was on my knees, I lowered myself so I was sitting, just in front of the second pillow.

I avoided thinking about what would happen if he woke up now – he'd probably kick me out of his room, maybe even his home. I wouldn't blame him. But I couldn't just go back to my room. Not now. Still, I wasn't sure what I could do. It wasn't like my presence would magically stop his nightmare. As if in confirmation, the same strangled sound broke from his lips, and his hands clutched at the comforter.

I could see a sweat beginning to break out on his forehead. Again, acting without thinking, so overcome by grief at his pain, I reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek. His cry stopped short, and – thankfully – he did not wake up. Lightly, just as lightly as he once had, I stroked his cheek, feeling the slight stubble there. It began to rain outside; it seemed like the perfect background noise for such a moment.

Gradually, little by little, Vaughn's expression began to change. His jaw relaxed, his eyes unclenched, and he sighed, almost contentedly. I smiled down at him, stroking from his temple, to along his jaw. Right now, at this moment, he looked so peaceful. Not angry or indifferent like he usually was. I wanted him to stay like this forever, but I knew it was merely wishful thinking. I felt a wave of happiness, because it was _me _who had made him calm down.

Surely that meant I gave him some feeling of peace, didn't it? Staring down at him, I was suddenly overcome by strong emotion. I didn't want to leave. I never wanted to leave him. Despite his overall attitude, he made me feel safe, happy . . .

I closed my eyes, and allowed myself to remember when I had visited the Harvest Goddess a week or so ago. I'd told myself I was looking for peace, that I wanted to be alone . . . yet, I went to see her, for a reason unknown to myself. I'd been struggling with some unknown revelation – concerning Vaughn – and I wanted her to help me realize what it was.

My mind zoned out for a second as I remembered.

"_I'm so confused – I don't know what to think right now. I know that nothing has changed between us, but it feels like something has. On my part, anyway," I said._

_She smiled. "I think I may know what you mean."_

"_What is it?" _

_She laughed. "I'm not going to tell you your own feelings, Chelsea."_

I smiled a small, tight smile. Here, in the darkness, alone with him, it so easy to realize what I had been missing. It seemed so obvious. I wanted to say it out loud.

"I love you, Vaughn."

I said this very softly, so as not to wake him. He didn't stir. If I really thought about it about it, the reason I hadn't realized my love for him was simply because I didn't want to. Letting him go, if he never changed his mind, would be so much more difficult. So much more painful.

But I couldn't deny it anymore, no matter how much my subconscious mind wanted to. Whatever happened now, I would just have to deal with it. I took a deep breath and swallowed heavily. It scared me, because I wasn't sure if I would be able to handle it. What amazed me was remembering the past; how I had loathed and despised him then, despite the curiosity. Somewhere through my deep feelings of hate, I had fallen in love.

Was that even possible?

He still looked completely relaxed, and I was feeling a little drowsy myself. I knew I should be getting back to my room now. But I couldn't seem to leave just yet. So I slid down so was lying next to him, on the other pillow. He took a deep breath abruptly, which made me feel even more relaxed. Before I knew it, my eyes were closing, and I was lulled by the rain into a deep, satisfying sleep.

I was very disoriented when I woke up. I felt arms around me, which was strange, because I didn't share a bed with anyone. For a second, I thought it might be Will, and my body tensed in discomfort. But then the memories of yesterday came rushing back; I realized where I was. I kept my eyes closed, but I was panicking.

Hadn't I returned to the guestroom last night? Surely I wasn't stupid enough to fall asleep here. What would he think of me when he woke up, sneaking into his room in the middle of the night? The possibilities were endless, and none of them were good. I continued to pretend to sleep, but it would be unconvincing if he saw – my breathing was too shaky. I wished a bottomless pit would appear beside the bed, and I could jump into it.

I would without a second thought.

I only wanted to die. My arm was slung across him, too, my hand pressed against his back. I opened my eyes just the slightest crack; my forehead was leaning on his chest, and his chin was just above my head. Yes, I would surely die of humiliation when he woke up. There was no way I could sneak out without waking him – his arms were too tight around me. My heart sprinted in my chest.

The minutes passed, and it wasn't getting any better. Finally, to calm myself down, I took a deep breath and just enjoyed the moment. Though I knew torment was coming, I could enjoy this mix-up while it was pleasant. I was so comfortable here; I honestly never wanted to leave. I enjoyed him holding me, listening to his breath come and go. I didn't dare move an inch; I was trying to decide if it would be best for me to be already awake or pretending to be asleep when he woke up.

On one hand, if I was asleep, he might freak out and shove me off the bed. On the other, if I was awake, he might question me for not getting up immediately when I woke up. After a few more minutes of contemplation, I was out of time, because he was beginning to stir. I stiffened immediately, panic rising up inside me again. Impulsively, I decided to stay asleep.

I forced myself to relax, my breathing to slow; I could do nothing, however, about my racing heart. I felt his head rise up and his arms loosen from around me. I wondered idly what his expression looked like upon discovering my presence. Appalled? Disgusted? Or something better?

He rolled onto his back. Then it was silent for several minutes. Unable to resist, I opened my eyes slightly to peak out once more. Vaughn was staring at me, his eyes expressionless.

"I know you're awake," he said simply.

I considered pretending I hadn't heard him, if only to stall, but, with a sigh, I slowly moved so I was sitting up. I leaned against the headboard and hugged my knees to my chest.

"So," he began, still sounding casual, "Do you often sneak into people's beds?"

I made a face at him to hide my embarrassment. "No," I mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. A long silence passed, and I almost gnawed off my lips during that time.

Finally, he sighed, "Chelsea" and waited expectantly.

I continued to look away for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to lie. I could pull it off, of course, but what to say? Anything besides the truth would make me look stalkerish.

I looked at him reluctantly, and my voice was soft. "I wanted some water. I was on my way to the kitchen when I . . . heard a noise."

"A noise?" His tone was abruptly sharp, but I could hear a tiny bit of something besides irritation. Fear? "What kind of noise?"

A knot was coiled uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach, but I continued. "It was coming from your room. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

His eyes widened a bit at this. "And . . . ?"

I could tell it annoyed him to be practically dragging the words out of me, but I couldn't seem to go on without a bit of prodding.

"You looked . . . bad," I sighed, "Like you were having a nightmare. I . . . wanted to help you."

He was silent for a moment, possibly trying to decide what to say to that. Instead of blushing, his face was very pale, like I'd just informed him of horrible news.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually. It must have been difficult for him to say, because it nearly came out through his teeth.

"Why?" I asked, shocked. Out of all the things I might have predicted him to say, this wasn't one of them.

"I . . . you shouldn't have had to deal with that. Ignore me next time."

My heart ached, just like last night. "I don't think I could." The words came out as a whisper. "You looked so awful . . . like you were in pain. And frightened."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes glazing over, probably remembering.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked quietly after a second, already knowing what the answer would be.

"No." His tone was not harsh – the word came out softly, brokenly.

I could not stop my hand from reaching out to touch his cheek. He looked very surprised, but made no move to push it away.

"If it's any consolation," I murmured, "You calmed down when I came in. I was afraid you would freak out again if I left."

"I might have," he agreed softly.

"Do you dream often?" I wondered.

"Almost every night."

I shuddered, and then asked a bold question, perhaps stupidly. "Are they about Marissa?"

"Every one," he said.

My forehead came down to rest on his shoulder. Again, he did not move away. He tensed a little at first, but relaxed after a minute.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, though I knew he did not want pity.

"Not your fault."

With a shock, I felt his hand come up and begin stroking my hair. I closed my eyes contentedly.

"Chelsea," he said after a minute.

Unhappily, I moved so I was sitting up again, because that's what I thought his tone implied. He sat up, too – my eyes zeroed in on the way his muscles moved.

"This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about," he said in frustration after a minute.

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly.

"This. Why we can't be . . . together." His eyes focused on the lamp over my shoulder as he said this. I waited till he looked at me before I answered, just as softly as he had.

"I could handle it, Vaughn. We could handle anything together."

He groaned and rubbed his temples. "You don't understand."

"I have a pretty good idea," I argued back.

A long silence passed as we stared each other down. He was frowning at me, a challenging glint in his eyes.

Finally, he broke the tense stillness. "You really think it could work?"

"I do," I said confidentially. I knew I was getting into a potentially difficult situation. I knew it might all come crashing down on me. I knew there was a good chance I could get hurt. But love makes people do crazy things. And, right now, I was willing to do anything.

"I really like you, Vaughn," I said, because I knew if I said 'love' he might freak out and drop me out his window or something.

I smiled, trying to look a little surprised. "Though sometimes I'm really not sure why."

He grimaced at me, but it was playful. "I like you, too. Which is surprising, considering I despised you when we met."

I chuckled. "You were a jerk. Still are."

He shrugged and smiled a little. "Take it or leave it."

It was a relief to joke around with him, if only a little. Still, though, the seriousness had to come back sometime. I just wished it wasn't so soon.

He frowned, a little sadly. "I need to think, Chelsea."

I nodded. "Yes, I know."

I thought it was a little odd how he wasn't bringing Will into this conversation; maybe Vaughn just didn't want to talk about him. His expression was suddenly very intense, just way I remembered. Just like it was before. My breath became uneven again. His head leaned forward so his forehead was leaning against mine. He almost kissed me, but he changed his mind at the last second and planted one on my cheek. I sighed, a bit frustrated. Would I never receive my deep, passionate kiss?

I glanced at the clock; it was almost eight. "I should go," I said reluctantly, "If I hurry I can make the ten-thirty boat back to the Islands."

"I'll see you Monday." He smiled a little.

With an expression I was sure was more than a little wistful, I stood and walked out of the room. I got dressed in the guestroom, made the bed, got all my things together and walked into the living room. He leaning by the door – fully dressed – when I approached. Hesitantly, he pulled me close in a hug.

"Chelsea," he said after a minute. One of his hands reached for the doorknob, and he pulled it open.

"Mmm?" I asked.

His voice was very quiet. "I think we can try."

I smiled up at him, kissed his hand, and then walked into the hall.

"Okay."

* * *

My mother handed me the wallet when I got to the house icily. But curiosity got the better of her just as I was about to leave.

"Why do you look so happy?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I can't be happy?"

"You weren't in high spirits last time."

"Things are . . . working out for me," I said truthfully.

She sighed, but – surprisingly – she was smirking a little when she spoke again. "You're together with that non-prince now, aren't you? Vaughn?"

"Maybe," I whispered, tucking the wallet into my suitcase.

My mother shrugged, trying to be indifferent, maybe even supportive. "Chelsea," she said, just as I stepped out the door.

I turned. "Yes?"

"I want things to be okay with us. I love you, you love me, alright?"

I laughed. "Yes, Mom."

"Goodbye, then. Georgette and I are getting pedicures today."

I rolled my eyes fondly at her superficial behavior. "Goodbye, Mother."

I made the ten-thirty boat just in time. I spent most of the ride home in a daze, but it was a happy daze. When I stepped onto the dock of Sprout Island, I walked home slowly, with newfound hope for the future.

**A/N: What's that old saying? Things are going to get worse before they get better? O_O**


	13. Shattered

_13: Shattered_

"I hope you like it here," I said cheerfully to Lola as I placed a large piece of fodder into her square feeder, "I plan on filling this farm up to the brim with animals."

Lola blinked her large black eyes at me once before bending down to eat. I patted her side and continued to grin. It was Sunday today. All week I had nearly been bursting with joy. The other Islanders noticed, but when they asked why, I simply shrugged and told them I didn't know. But I did. I knew why I was constantly beaming, why a cloud of happiness seemed to fog my brain.

I knew why, because every time I closed my eyes I thought about what had passed in the city. His words echoed through my mind on an hourly basis.

"_I think we can try." _

I left the barn and went down to my fields. Though I didn't have as many crops this season as I would have preferred – due to my long absence in the city – what I did have was ripe and ready to be harvested.

Turnips were the theme for this season's Crop Festival, and I found one towards the front of the line that looked like it would win first place. I skipped into my house and put in the fridge, and then I went to dump the rest of them into the shipping box.

I planned to upgrade my house very soon – it seemed a bit selfish at first, but I simply couldn't live with my lack of space anymore. _And, _a little voice in the back of my mind whispered, _if anyone ever comes to live with you, it'll be easier with the extra room. _I shoved the voice away, gnawing on my lip.

That small, cautious part of me worried that I was getting my hopes up to soon. It said that this was too good to be true, that I would get hurt again, and that I was being stupid. Usually I listened to this wise, careful part of me. It was a natural, gut-instinct. Maybe subconsciously I knew that I should listen.

But I didn't want to be rational. I wanted to believe this would work out pleasantly. I wanted to think that – just for the moment – that I would get exactly what I wanted. I couldn't bear to be under the black cloud of depression that hung over my head any longer.

I wanted to be happy.

* * *

Will stopped me on the way to the dock Monday morning – which was surprising, since it was five thirty in the morning.

"Will," I said, "What are you doing here?"

He smiled. "I always rise at five, milady. I must say, though, I've never seen you away from home this early before. Where are you headed?"

I hesitated. On one hand, I should be honest with him. He had every right to know where I was going. On the other . . . my throat tightened. I wondered if he had any idea of my love for Vaughn. Maybe he did, and he just chose to ignore it. After all, before I left for the city, Will asked how I even knew him. Still, he must see the way I sometimes looked at him . . .

I was suddenly gripped by a strong wave of emotional pain. I didn't want to hurt him. I did love Will, like I'd said. I debated whether or not it was best to break it off with him right now, so as not to string him along any longer.

But something in the back of my mind prevented me from doing so. I couldn't yet, not when I was still unsure about how things would go with Vaughn. It still felt terrible, like I was using him. In a way, I supposed I was.

"I'm going to the dock. I like to fish early in the mornings occasionally," I half-lied.

"Oh. Shall I come with you?" Will asked.

"No – I concentrate better when I'm alone. We'll . . . go to Dinner, alright?"

"Very well. I love you, dear Chelsea." Will's smile was wide.

"I love you, too," I sighed. _Just not in the same way. _

He bent down to kiss my lips, turned, and walked away, humming a tune I didn't know. Guilt was an uncomfortable knot in my stomach, but I couldn't think about that right now. I had to get to the dock. I was suddenly hurrying, praying no one else would stop me on the way.

I reached my destination just as Vaughn was stepping out onto the dock. Without thinking, I reached up and wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. When I realized what I had done, I tensed, but relaxed again when I felt one of his arms come up to hug me back, if only lightly. I stepped back and assessed him, as per usual.

"Do I pass the inspection?" he asked snidely, smirking.

I shrugged. "You'll do."

For a minute we were silent, watching the boat pull away from the dock and sail until it was merely a dot on the horizon. When I looked turned my head to look back at him, I saw he was staring with his piercing, odd eyes. I held his gaze for a seemingly endless minute before he chuckled at looked away.

"I should get to work."

It didn't surprise me at all that he didn't bring up our last conversation from the city. He would wait until I said something. And I would. Wordlessly, be began walking. Surprisingly, he glanced over his shoulder halfway there to see if I was following. Of course, I was.

He went straight to his room without saying hello to Mirabelle or Julia, who were both standing in front of the counter in the kitchen. I met Julia's eyes as I passed. Thankfully, she didn't look disapproving . . . but she did look nervous. Truthfully, I was, too. Little butterflies bounced around in my stomach.

"I missed you," I told him honestly when he sat down at his desk in his room.

Vaughn blinked, obviously surprised. A long moment passed. Eventually, he looked away and said softly, "Yeah, I missed you, too."

A jolt of happiness ran through me. There were quite a few papers in front of him, but he wasn't doing anything with them; he just sat and stared off into space, possibly lost in thought. I went to stand by the desk and waited until he looked at me before I spoke.

My voice was low, my tone completely serious. "Vaughn, did you mean what you said before, at your apartment? About trying?"

He took a long, slow breath. "If you still think it's a good idea."

"I do," I said softly, "If . . . you want to."

"I do," he agreed, "I like you."

"Wow, a direct compliment." I grinned.

He smirked arrogantly back. "Don't get used to it."

We continued to give each other small little smiles for a while before he slowly stood again. His expression changed, becoming serious and intense. I'd seen that look before. It made butterflies dance around in my stomach and sent an odd sort of desire shooting through my body. When he was directly in front of me, his hand came up to my cheek.

I leaned my face into it contentedly. But when he bent to kiss me, I had to pull away. His eyes widened a bit, not expecting this response. He frowned, looking a little hurt.

"Vaughn, I . . ." I sighed. I couldn't ignore my guilt anymore. "I'm still with Will. I have to end things with him before we can . . ."

I hated cheaters. I thought they were one of the worst kinds of people. I wasn't going to be one of them. Especially not to Will.

"If you don't want . . ." Vaughn trailed off, his tone a bit sad.

"I do!" I assured him quickly. "I just think it's the right thing to do."

He nodded slowly, his lips set into a hard line. "Alright."

"I should leave you to work," I said quietly.

"Mmm-hmm," he agreed, glancing over to his papers.

I turned to leave. But – just as my hand touched the doorknob – I was overcome by feeling. I whirled to wrap my arms around him again, and I mashed my mouth against his in a quick peck, just like the others. He arms tightened around me when I tried to move away. He didn't try to kiss me again, but he held me to his chest, reaching up a hand to stoke my hair.

"Chelsea," he breathed quietly.

And it was just like before. His tone was adoring, tender, almost . . . loving. It made me shiver a little in delight. I was tempted to tell him I loved him right then and there, but it didn't feel like quite the right moment. Not the right time. So, after another few minutes of bliss in his arms, I had to pull away and head for the door.

Just before I closed it, I smiled at him, and murmured, "I'll see you soon."

* * *

It was not my fault that I didn't break up with Will the next day.

I had a very good reason. I could not _find _him. And I looked everywhere. Vendure, Sprout, Mystic, Lighthouse, Meadow and Volcano Island . . . He wasn't anywhere.

Finally, around two in the afternoon, I trudged to Regis's house unhappily. I tried to avoid him at all costs, but I figured he might know what his nephew was up to. Idly, I wondered if he was Joan's or Avery's brother. He didn't really look like either of them.

I knocked on the door of the grand mansion, and was almost immediately greeted with: "Who is interrupting me _now?_"

"It's Chelsea, Regis," I called back, working to sound happy.

"Oh. Well, come in." Regis's tone was a bit nicer now. He was always friendlier to me after I had mined and sold him pretty gems. I found him – predictably – behind his desk in his office.

"What is it, Chelsea? Did you find something of exquisite value?" he asked eagerly.

"No," I replied.

His eyes narrowed. "Then what do you want?"

"I can't find Will. Do you know where he is?"

"Last I heard, that treasure-hunting girl was taking him to Volcano Island again. She said she thought she found something he might like to see," Regis grumbled unwillingly.

I grimaced. I had looked around Volcano Island, yes, but I hadn't actually gone into the cave. I was so not in the mood to fall down some deep, dark pit.

"Oh. Well, thanks," I muttered, turning to leave.

He might have said something else on my way out, but I wasn't listening. I was annoyed. Will sometimes spent all day on Volcano Island – I might not even see him. I told myself that I could wait, but of course I didn't want to.

When I got back to my land, Vaughn was waiting for me by the fields.

"Get anything good?" he asked when I approached, gesturing to my bare garden.

"I just harvested yesterday," I said, hiding my surprise at seeing him here, "Turnips and strawberries."

"Hmm."

"Next season I'm doing tomatoes and corn," I said.

He made a face. "Tomatoes."

"You don't like them?" I smiled.

"Not really. There not as bad as carrots, though. I despise carrots."

I laughed loudly. "Really?"

"Yes. Disgusting, rotten things."

"You're not into vegetables, are you?" I was still smiling widely.

"No."

"Good to know," I mumbled, filing the info in my head carefully.

His smirk faded, and he was suddenly serious again. "Did you catch up to the prince?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "No. He's in the cave on Volcano Island with Lily."

"Oh." He frowned.

"I won't see you until next week," I said sadly, "As usual."

He shrugged. "Nope."

Vaughn studied me for a few more minutes before turning and walking away without another word.

* * *

While I was doing my chores the next morning – my mind focused on other things, as usual – it became apparent to me that I was running very low on chicken feed. I usually didn't let it get this low, but, then again, I had been a bit preoccupied.

I sighed, and shook my head to myself once. The Harvest Goddess had been right; I shouldn't allow personal matters to interfere with my work. I needed to focus on making money and getting sunstones again.

The next Island I was going to raise was called Mushroom Island. It was fairly easy to guess what I would find there, but perhaps I might find something a bit more interesting as well. Not many people were outside as I walked to the Animal Shop – they weren't usually out and about until nine.

But I enjoyed the walk just the same; the warm, spring air caressed my face. I took a deep breath before entering into the Shop – I was never more grateful to be out of the wrenched city. If I ever went back again, it would be for a very good reason. I went inside, smiling at Mirabelle as I approached the counter.

Strangely, she did not smile back.

"What would you like, dear?" Her voice was low, sad, and almost dead-sounding.

I blinked. Mirabelle was always so happy and optimistic, like her daughter. Nothing made her happier to run a Shop here on the Islands with Julia. She regularly spent time with her best friend, Felicia. She adored her life. So what could have possibly happened that seemed to suck the life from her entirely?

"Mirabelle, what's wrong?" I asked.

It surprised me at first how genuinely concerned I was, but it probably shouldn't have. Even though I hadn't lived on these Islands for very long, I had grown to love each individual person. I wanted them all safe and happy. When they weren't it just seemed . . . wrong.

"Nothing, honey, I'm fine," Mirabelle answered, attempting to sound cheerful, and failing miserably.

"Please, Mirabelle – something's not right," I begged.

"It's nothing, Chelsea."

My eyes widened at her tone. She had almost snapped at me. With _anger. _Mirabelle got annoyed with people, but she never truly got _angry._ A little ball of nervousness coiled in my stomach, and my throat tightened in anxiety. Although I desperately wanted to press for more information, the look in her eyes told me not to.

Perhaps I would be able to get something out of Julia a little less dangerously.

"I – I need some chicken feed." My voice was small.

She took my money with a frown. "I'll have it put in the feeder very soon."

"Take your time," I whispered, looking away. "Where's your daughter?"

"In the kitchen."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I was on the verge of truly freaking out now. Always, _always, _when I came into the Animal Shop, Julia would come out of the kitchen to greet me. But, when I listened, there was nothing but dead silence coming from that room. In fact, the whole house was suddenly too quiet.

Eerie. Lifeless. Like the same black cloud that had hung over me for so long had somehow multiplied in size and come to hang over this house. Except now, along with the sadness, there was also a tinge of something horribly ominous. I shuddered almost violently and forced myself to walk into the kitchen.

Julia sat, completely motionless, at the table, staring at the wall blankly. Another uneasy wave hit me with terrible force. Julia was always up and moving around this time of day, cooking or cleaning or helping her mother.

She hated to just sit around and do nothing unless she absolutely had to. And yet that's exactly what she was doing now. Of course, my uneasiness cleared away into absolute dread when I studied her expression more closely. Her face was very pale, not hint of color anywhere.

Her eyes seemed cold and distant, and her breathing was a little uneven. One of her hands gripped the edge of the table without any apparent reason.

When she saw me in her peripheral vision, Julia turned her head to say, "Hello, Chelsea." Her voice was just as dead – if not more so – than Mirabelle's.

Immediately, I reached out, wrapped a hand around her arm and jerked hard enough to pull her to her feet. Momentarily, she looked irritated, but then she became just as gloomy as before. I gripped her hand.

"Julia, you and Mirabelle are scaring me. Please tell me what's going on."

She stared back at me, a single tear welling up in her left eye and then falling soundlessly down her cheek.

She was silent for a few seemingly endless moments before she finally answered tonelessly. "I really don't want to talk about it right now, Chelsea. I need a break. I promise to tell you later – if anyone has a right to now, it's you."

Panic gripped my heart, and my mouth was suddenly extremely dry. "Julia, please tell me now. I can't take not knowing."

"Later," she repeated. Her normally bright blue eyes weren't focusing on me as she replied – they seemed to be staring right through me, like I wasn't even there.

"It's bad," I whispered, "It's really bad, isn't it?"

Julia blinked, and a few more tears fell. She didn't even bother to reach up and wipe them away. "Yes."

"How bad is it?" I had to get out of her what I could.

"Really bad."

"Could you at least tell me what it's about?" I begged.

"Not now, Chelsea. Please . . . leave me alone for a while," she sighed.

I dropped her hand and stepped back, hurt. "If that's what you want," I agreed softly, turning.

But just as I reached the doorway, Julia said softly, "Chelsea?"

I stopped and looked at her expectantly.

"Don't talk to Vaughn while you're gone, either," she said.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "It's Wednesday. He's not on the Islands."

She bit her lip. "He's here. In his room. Don't go back there."

Panic so violent I wanted to vomit seized me in an all-consuming grip. My knees felt weak, and a sweat started breaking out on the palms of my hands.

"This is about him, isn't it?" My voice made no sound, but somehow she heard me.

Julia paused for a minute, but then she nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Is he okay?" I gasped.

"Yes, he's fine – physically. I promise you that."

"Julia . . ." It sounded like I was choking.

She shook her head and then sat back down, obviously done with this conversation. I wanted – so desperately – to keep begging for information. But once Julia decides on something, that's what she's going to do – no matter what.

I managed to drag myself to the couch in the main room before I collapsed, burying my face in a pillow in undeniable agony.

* * *

I stayed on the couch for what seemed like a very long time, trying so desperately hard not to think. If I pondered too much over what Julia told me, I would surely drive myself insane. So I just laid there and tried to focus on things that made me happy. Fat, contented livestock, beautifully grown crops, a big happy Island family. Well, _mostly _happy, I added bitterly.

No matter what I thought of, somehow my mind wondered back over to exactly where I didn't want it to be. I forced myself through sheer willpower to stay on the couch for several more minutes. Mirabelle hadn't spoken to me at all this entire time, but now I heard her shuffling toward me. I knew it was her because she hadn't come from the direction of the kitchen.

I somehow knew she was standing by the couch now, waiting for me to sit up and face her. Slowly, I managed to do so.

Her expression was somber and sad. "Chelsea, I'm closing the shop. I thought I could, but . . . I just can't do it today. I won't make you leave, dear, but try not to upset Julia, alright?"

"I don't think she could be more upset," I whispered quietly.

Mirabelle sighed. "I'll be in my room. I'll . . . come back if you need me."

_Translation: leave me alone._

But, despite myself, I smiled a little at her polite way of speaking. At least the anger was gone, but I couldn't say the sadness was the least bit better. She gave me a sad little wave before turning and walking slowly down the hall, going into her room and shutting the door quietly behind her.

I stared blankly at the door for a minute, before bluntly deciding that I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to go back to Vaughn's room and find out what was going on from him, but I didn't want to go against Julia's request. She already seemed like she was at her breaking point . . .

Still, I needed answers. So I made myself stand on weak legs and walk into the kitchen. It was almost scary how Julia's position hadn't changed at all since my first arrival. Exactly like before, she sat at the table, staring at the wall with sad, pale eyes.

"Julia," I said quietly, "Could we . . . talk about things now?"

"No," she breathed back quietly. She turned her head, and wiped at her tear-stained cheeks. "I know I'm being selfish right now, Chelsea, but just a few more minutes, okay?"

I bit my lip against the frustration burning inside me. At that exact moment, the door of the Shop opened, and someone stepped inside. I peeked around the edge of the doorway, irritated.

"Morning, Chelsea," Elliot said cheerfully when he saw me.

Something about my expression must have tipped him off, because when he studied me more closely the smile fell from his face and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a little nervously.

It suddenly occurred to me that Elliot might be able to calm Julia down, if she loved him like she said she did.

"Elliot, would you please come here?" I mumbled quietly, ignoring his question completely.

Anxiously, he walked into the kitchen, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. When he saw Julia, his face paled, and he swallowed heavily.

"Julia, what's wrong?" He walked over to her and hesitated, obviously unsure of what to do.

It was decided for him, though, because the moment Julia saw him, her eyes teared up even more and she threw her arms around his neck.

"What's wrong?" Elliot repeated fretfully.

"Just hold me awhile," she whispered back softly.

Elliot threw a confused glance at me.

I shrugged, and mouthed, "I don't know."

He paused again, but eventually pulled her up and hugged her to his chest, rocking soothingly back and forth. I waited for several minutes, hoping Julia was step back and explain everything. Of course, she did not. They just continued to rock, and every once in a while he would whisper in her ear.

Frustration so hot I saw bits of red welled up in my body. I didn't want to displease Julia or Mirabelle, but they weren't being cooperative with me. Maybe I was being nosy, and maybe this was none of my business, but it was about Vaughn. I loved him, and I had to _know. _

Both Julia's and Elliot's eyes were shut, so I used the opportunity to sneak out of the kitchen. I worked to be very quiet as I walked down the hall – it was silent as a cemetery here anyway. I couldn't even make out any sounds from outside. I prayed Mirabelle wouldn't hear as I knocked very softly on Vaughn's door. For a moment, there was nothing.

I'd just about decided to go back to the kitchen when the door opened just a crack. Eyes I knew better than my own peered down at me through the crack; they were narrowed slightly in cautiousness. I couldn't even allow myself the necessary two seconds of thinking about how oddly colored they were; the words flew from my mouth before I could stop them.

"Vaughn, what's going on?" Thankfully, my voice was soft, not enough to carry down the hall or through a shut door.

He opened the door enough so he could lean against the doorway. Vaughn's expression scared me. More deeply than it ever had. He usually looked indifferent, yes, sometimes flatly apathetic, like he didn't care about anything. I'd seen him angry, sad, and in pain, but none of it could compare to how he looked now.

None of his other expressions made my body stiffen and my blood turn to ice.

He stared down at me with a look so blank it might as well be described as dead. His eyes were lifeless, no hint of any sort of emotion at all. He didn't smile, frown or smirk. Just . . . dead. He didn't answer my question, either. So after a few minutes, I realized I would have to speak again. It was exceedingly difficult to find my voice and, when I did, it came out rough with anxiety.

"Vaughn, what's wrong? Don't look at me like that," I pleaded.

He blinked, and took a sharp breath through his nose. "Chelsea, I don't want to talk to you right now." His voice, like everything else, was flat and unfeeling.

He stepped back and started to close the door. Somehow, I sensed that the door-closing was symbolic. It meant closing the door on the idea of us being together, on all the progress I had made uncovering his secrets and getting to _know _him. It meant my ending up permanently with Will, and Vaughn becoming even more distant that before.

It meant the end of _us. _

A sob welled up in my throat and burst out in the form of one word. My hand came up to stop the door from shutting forever, and I managed to step between it and the doorframe.

"Please."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he frowned. When he spoke again, his tone was vicious; sharp. "Please what?"

"Talk to me," I begged, "Tell me what went wrong. I've been waiting for hours, but Julia won't tell me anything, and Mirabelle's all freaked out, and – and . . ." My voice broke, and a few tears escaped my eyes.

His expression didn't even soften at this. If anything, his tone got fiercer. "It's none of your business."

All my sadness, all my fear – it amazed me how instantaneously it turned into burning, boiling-hot, pulse-pounding a_nger. _This was the exact way he'd spoken to me before I found out about everything. The way he'd been when we'd first met. During the time when I hated him more than words could've described. Suddenly, it seemed like all my progress, all my time, all my _love _had been for nothing.

Like I'd made a huge investment only to have it come down, crashing and burning. A small, arrogant little voice in my mind whispered, _I told you so. _I knew this might happen. I knew I might fall in love with him only to be hurt beyond repair.

I knew what I was getting into. I knew it, and yet I went ahead anyway, blinded by my curiosity and love. Suddenly, I wished I never had. I wished – like I had once promised myself – that I had had as little as possible to do with him. That I'd stuck to my original feeling of hate, and never allowed myself to love. A single tear tolled down my cheek as I stared at him, consumed by sadness and anger.

There is a fine line between love and hate.

I just hadn't been smart enough to realize exactly how thin that line was before I had crossed over completely. No, that wasn't true. I _had _seen it – I'd just ignored it. And it was coming back to torment me now. But even as I stared into his seemingly emotionless eyes, a small portion of my brain told me I was wrong.

If I had to do it all over again, I knew I would do exactly as before . . . with a few small changes, of course. And the answer as to why seemed so obvious to me. It would seem like such a shame to go through life and not know what true love was. If I hadn't involved myself with Vaughn so deeply, I would have met Will completely unbiased. I would have dated him, I would have liked him, and I might have fallen in love with him. And perhaps I would have married him. We would have been happy.

But it would never have been the real thing. I never would have known what it was like to be so completely devoted to one person. And that, it seemed, was a terrible waste. So I could not bring myself to fully regret the decisions I had made that had led up to this point. Still, seeing him look at me this way and tell me this issue – whatever it was – was none of my business made my blood boil.

And suddenly I had to show it.

"Damn it, Vaughn – it is too my business!" I snapped, louder than I should have.

His eyes widened slightly at my tone, but then he composed his expression and looked properly intimidating again.

"And why is that, Chelsea?" His tone was treacherously low.

Resolve solidified in my mind. There was only one answer I could give him. It was simple, it was honest, and it was potentially dangerous, but it had to be said. Maybe he knew it already – I thought I'd given him enough signs.

"Because I love you, Vaughn," I said. Though I tried to sound firm and sure – which I was – my voice still sounded a bit broken. "And I need you to be happy."

For a moment – just two, tiny seconds – the mask of sadness and spite fell away and I saw his real feelings. He seemed . . . awed? Like that was the last thing he expected me to say, and, now that I had, it seemed surreal to him. Maybe it did.

For those seconds, I searched his eyes for any inkling that said he felt the same way. He seemed a bit unsure, biting the corner of his lip and staring back at me intensely. He managed to look harsh again after a minute, but I could tell it took effort to put it there.

"Don't feel that way," he said finally, through his teeth.

"Why not?" I challenged, hurt.

"Because this" – he gestured to me, and then to himself – "can't work. I was stupid to think that it ever could." And then – for good measure – he added, "And I don't love you."

"I know that," I lied, using every bit of strength I had to sound relatively sure. Inside, my heart was breaking into pieces so small it would be impossible to put back together again. I knew I was wasting my time, but I had to keep this going for just a while longer.

"But why don't you think that you ever could?" I whispered.

His eyes closed, and one of his hands came up to rub circles on his temple. "There are too many things in the past. No matter how . . . relaxed I get, how _happy" – _he nearly sneered the word – "I may become, there'll always be something coming at me to remind me of my past actions."

His tone made it impossibly clear that something of that nature had just occurred. How else could he have gone from wanting to be with me to becoming the cold, unfeeling person I had once knew and despised?

Exasperation became my dominant emotion, and I nearly spat my next words at him. "Marissa's death _was not your fault._"

"Her death was not fully my fault," he agreed, "And neither was . . ." Vaughn cut himself off to suck in a deep breath, swallowing heavily and biting his lip so hard it began to bleed.

"And neither was . . . ?" I pressed, panic clawing up my throat. "Did someone else die? Who?"

He shook his head and replied tonelessly, "It doesn't matter, Chelsea."

I blinked at the sheer stupidity of his statement. Obviously, if it didn't matter, he wouldn't be reacting so extremely. He wouldn't have the other occupants of this house acting so brokenly. But I was unable to voice my thoughts on this.

Instead, something else broke through my lips. "This is over?"

I knew he knew I meant us.

Him and me.

Vaughn and Chelsea.

With cold, dead eyes, he said the words that shattered me completely and shut the symbolic door in my face forever.

"It never began."

I stepped backwards, out into the hall. I had nothing else to say. I had to get out of this room before I lost it. I was only barely managing to keep myself composed. I could only manage a stiff nod as I turned, and walked down the hall, with a heavy heart and a bitter mind.

* * *

Julia was sitting alone on the couch when I walked back out into the main room. Her expression held sympathy I didn't want. She obviously knew where I had gone.

"Where's Elliot?" I whispered hoarsely.

"He went home. I told him I needed to speak with you alone."

"Oh, _now _you want to talk?" I snapped.

She flinched and bit her lip.

I took a deep breath and sat down beside her. "Sorry, Julia. Say whatever you want to me. I can take it."

She stared at my face for a very long time before speaking. I wondered what she saw in my face, because I truly had no idea what it looked like.

"You talked to Vaughn," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Even though warned you not to."

"Yes."

She sighed and shook her head, but she managed a small smile. "You never could follow the rules in high school."

I snorted. "You were such a goody-goody."

A long silence passed between us. I appreciated her attempts at lightheartedness, but I think we both knew it was a wasted attempt. A long, loaded silence passed while we stared at each other. Finally, Julia's smile melted away and she looked completely serious. Much more calm and collected that she had been in the kitchen, but still a bit tense.

She spoke first. "What did he say?"

"He . . . said some things, Julia." Tears welled in my eyes and dripped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

She nodded slowly. "He . . . put a stop to things between you two, didn't he?"

"Yes." I didn't bother asking her how she knew. It didn't even matter.

Julia scooted closer and put an arm around my shoulders. "Chelsea, I'm so sorry."

I pushed her arm away, ignoring her hurt expression. "I knew what I was getting into, Julia. It's my fault. I got involved too deeply – and, like an idiot, I fell in love with him."

Julia smiled a little at me knowingly. "I knew you loved him. I could tell."

"Since when?" I wondered.

She shrugged. "For a very long time."

"Huh," I said, looking away, studying a tiny ball of lint on the rug.

Another long silence passed before she finally spoke again.

Her tone was despairing and shaky. "Chelsea, did you know? Did he tell you everything? Because Mom and I just found out last night."

I looked back at her, blinking once in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Julia sighed, and I had to strain to hear her voice when she began whispering.

"We never knew . . . the whole story," she said, "We only knew that Jack had gone to prison, and Vivian – Vaughn's mother – was living in that insane asylum. We knew that Jack killed Marissa."

She shuddered a little at her last statement, but she managed to continue after a pause, averting her eyes from my gaze. "I always thought that my cousin is the way he is because of the trauma of his past. I thought that he only mourned for his sister. I _never_ knew that Jack was . . . abusive. I never knew that Vaughn blamed himself for Marissa's death."

I drew in a deep breath, and my eyes widened in shock. "He really told you _everything, _didn't he?" I whispered.

I never expected Vaughn to tell Julia and Mirabelle the whole story. I could clearly remember his words from the night of his dreadful story . . .

"_So after all this, you went to live with Mirabelle and Julia?" I asked. _

"_Yes. They took me in with open arms after hearing about everything that had happened. But I'm sure they wouldn't have if they knew the truth," he whispered. _

_My eyebrows came together in confusion. "What do you mean?" _

_He averted his eyes. "It's my fault, Chelsea. If I hadn't gone out that night – hell, if I had listened to Marissa in the first place, before the wedding, maybe none of that would have happened. Maybe my sister would still be alive." _

Obviously, they hadn't reacted as he thought they would. Surely they didn't blame him anymore than I did. But what could have possibly happened that made him do the unthinkable?

Almost as if Julia knew what I was thinking, she said softly, "He said he never planned on telling us. He said afterwards that it was a mistake."

I desperately tried to swallow against the hard lump in my throat. It seemed like now was the time to ask.

"Julia, what _happened?_"

She sighed. "Honestly, it's not that big of a deal to me. It's the _after affects _that matter. What it's done to him. All over again."

"Tell me," I demanded.

She stared at me for a long moment before _finally _answering. "Chelsea, last night – before Vaughn had the chance to leave for his boat to the city – we received word from the city that his mother passed away in the asylum."

"By phone?" I mouthed stupidly.

"Yes."

My mind-boggled brain tried to make sense of it all. Obviously, it was a terrible loss Vaughn would have to deal with now. But why did his mother's death have anything to do with him not wanting us to be together?

Julia stared at me with hard eyes. "He really likes you, you know. He might even love you."

"Then why . . . ?" I trailed off, desperately hoping she would grasp my question without my having to fully voice it.

"Chelsea. Can't you see what this feels like? For him? It's like Marissa dying all over again," Julia said quietly.

"Why? Nobody murdered his mother," I snapped.

"No. But he figures that her death is partially his fault, too," she said.

I blinked. _"Why?"_

Julia sighed and looked away. "His logic is really messed up, okay? He thinks that, if he had stopped the wedding and not been so caught up in Jack's money, then none of this would have happened. His sister would be alive, and his mother would never have gone insane."

"That's stupid," I growled.

"You and I think so. But no amount of talking to him is going to convince him he's wrong. He's been convinced of it for the past seven years. You also have to take this into consideration, Chelsea." Julia stared at me for a second, making sure I was really listening.

"Go on," I urged.

"I think . . ." She took a deep breath. "I think that . . . lately . . . he's been getting better. Maybe getting over the past, over his demons. And I think it was mostly because of you. Remember when I said I wanted him with you because there was a chance he could be happy? I think he was. Happy. There was something about the way he acted with you – and after being with you – that made me think that he was getting better. That this whole crazy situation would work itself out with the passing of time. Maybe it would have. But now this . . ."

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "It's like a slap in the face to him. Like fate reminding him that he _shouldn't _be happy. Like being lost in some wonderful fantasy world for a while and then suddenly being brought back down to reality."

"He's _wrong,_" I repeated, unable to think of other words to say.

"Yes," she agreed.

A terrible, long silence passed between us before Julia spoke again.

Her voice was weak. "He loved them, Chelsea. His mother and Marissa. Maybe more than he loves Mom and me. He's a good person – I hope you know that. I don't know what he said to you in his room; I'm sure it was hurtful and maybe even cruel. But whatever he's doing, he's doing it because he thinks it's right."

"I know," I whispered, "I don't love bad people."

"I'm so sorry this happened, Chelsea," Julia said, "It's partly my fault. I should have kept pushing you at Will and never allowed myself to believe . . ."

I took her hand and squeezed it. "No. I'm glad you did what you did. You were only trying to make me and him happy."

"Best friends do that, don't they?" Julia managed a smile.

My answering smile was pathetically small. "Always."

We sat there, for a long time, in companionable silence. Finally, though, Julia's smile melted away, and her eyes became solemn once again.

"You tried, Chelsea," she murmured quietly, "But I think it's over."

Pain twisted violently in my heart. My mind rejected it, and I grasped at any straws I could to make it go away.

"No," I said.

"Yes," she argued, her tone patient and pitying.

Somewhere in my befuddled brain, I knew she was right. I knew I had tried. At least I wouldn't go through life wondering what would have happened if I didn't. This acknowledgement didn't lesson the pain at all, of course.

So, without anything else to do, I leaned my head into Julia's shoulder, and cried.

* * *

Impossibly, time passed.

Weeks went by the same way they usually did, but they held less meaning to me than ever. I put all my energy into my work – I raised Mushroom Island, I upgraded my house, and I purchased another calf, appropriately named Cloud.

Will spent more and more time with me, and I never tried to get out of it. His company sometimes temporarily stopped my depression, but never for a very long time. No new romantic feelings were developed for the blonde prince, as I knew they wouldn't. I still kissed him and hugged him, though, attempting to be wholehearted. Will was not so oblivious as to not notice my sadness.

He asked me several times what was wrong, but I always said it was nothing. He was the last person I wanted to talk to about it. Sometimes I caught Julia staring sympathetically at me, and I hated it. I didn't want anyone's pity – I wanted to be alone to mourn. We got into a big fight over it one day, but it ended with heartfelt apologies and long hugs. Life continued on as if nothing was wrong.

And Vaughn still came to the Islands, every Monday and Tuesday. He never sought me out or anything, but occasionally I caught him looking at me with sad eyes. I sometimes had to make small talk with him, but it was never more than words of business, nothing personal. He tried so hard to perfect his usual indifferent mask, but it slipped once in a while, and I saw his wistfulness.

Or maybe I just saw what I wanted to see. Either way, it made my heart squeeze and I always left quickly to escape his presence. Yes, life continued to go on, and I did everything I was supposed to. I worked, I smiled, I went to festivals and I raised Islands and money. I stayed with Will, and I enjoyed his company.

The only difference was that, in place of my heart, there was a small, black stone. It would always be that way.

* * *

It was the twentieth of Summer when it happened. It was so shocking and unexpected that at first my boggled brain strung together hundreds of thoughts, all incoherent and jumbled. I had just left the Animal Shop after talking to Vaughn about possibly getting a sheep. It had been particularly bad today – I had let myself slip enough to reach out and touch his hand. He hadn't flinched or even moved away; he just stood there with a probing, intense gaze.

Will was waiting for me at the beach on Sprout Island, where we had arranged to meet at this time. It was evening, so the sun was beginning to set, a beautiful orange ball sinking below the horizon.

Will smiled at me, kissed my cheek, and then said, "It is evenings like this that make me truly appreciate the beautiful life you and I share."

I half-smiled at him. "Oh really?"

"Yes," he agreed. He took and deep breath and looked away, seemingly nervous.

Despite my sadness, I was a little curious. Will almost never got nervous. He was always so bold, happy and outgoing. Thinking about this actually made _me _a little anxious. When Will turned his head to look at me again, his bright blue eyes were resolved.

"Chelsea, I love you," he said firmly.

"I love you, too," I answered honestly.

"I want to spend forever on these Islands with you."

"You probably will," I agreed, shrugging.

He shook his head, frowning a little. "You don't understand."

"No," I said, baffled, "What are you getting at? You've told me this thousands of times before."

Will sucked in another deep breath and stared intensely, taking one my hands in his own. "I want to be with you always, but I want the tie between us to be a little more . . . permanent," he said softly.

My mind probably knew what he was saying, but it refused to make the connection. It refused to understand. "It's already permanent," I said weakly.

He shook his head. "Not legally. Chelsea . . ."

Very slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he reached up a hand and felt around in his jacket pocket. After precisely thee seconds of looking, he pulled out a long, blue feather. My eyes nearly bugged out my head. I knew exactly what that feather was, the meaning behind it. Julia had told me so many times that she wished Elliot would hurry up and give one to her . . . because she wanted to get married.

My throat tightened, and my heart started squeezing spasmodically. My palms started sweating, and my knees felt weak. I had known this would happen. That's how it worked: meet someone, fall in love, say I love you, meet the parents, spend time together . . . get married. A tear dripped down my cheek, but I had no idea what I was crying for.

"Chelsea," Will said again. He held the feather out to me. "Will you marry me? Make me the happiest man in the world."

I stared at his shining eyes for several long moments, unable to find my voice. There had always been something out of a place, a sense of wrong when I was kissing Will. When I told him I loved him and he thought it meant something more than it really did. But that didn't mean we couldn't be happy.

It would never be enough, and it would never truly be right. But what was my alternative? Being alone and depressed for the rest of my stupid life? I could never have what I wanted. _Who _I wanted. Even if Vaughn loved me, too – which I did not think he did – he was ignoring it. And, even if he got over everything from the past, who knew how much pain I would have to go through before he got to that point?

I closed my eyes for a second. Because when I thought about him . . . about his beautiful eyes . . . about his infuriating personality . . . about the way I loved him . . . I knew the pros outweighed the cons. I would be with him no matter what, if he would let me.

But he was determined to deal with this alone and be unhappy for however long. I couldn't change that, no matter how much it pained me. So, I opened my eyes and stared back at Will with the same sense of professional resolve. I went against everything that was right, and I said the one word that was the very epitome of _wrong._

"Yes."

**A/N: Okay, so this was hard to write, because I am such a die-hard Vaughn/Chelsea fan. Seriously. I have a hard time marrying other guys in the **_**game. **_**But trust me, and remember that I am fond of happy endings. Most of the time ;) **

**This early update was for ShadetheEchidna666. Nagging _works. _lol **


	14. Salvation

_14: Salvation_

Will was ecstatic. It had been exactly three days since the engagement, and every day he was over at my house or following me around, telling me exactly how the wedding should go.

"It will be wonderful," he said, "Nathan and Alisa haven't performed a wedding ceremony in so long. They miss the . . . sentiment."

"I don't talk to them much. They probably don't like me," I grumbled. I didn't mean to be surly with Will. Most of the time I was all smiles and sunshine – because his enthusiasm was impossible resist, even in my dead state – but there were times when I just couldn't put on my usual show for him.

Like now.

Because Will had insisted on coming with me to the Animal Shop – I needed to purchase some more fodder, but now, I wished I'd held out. There was still about six pieces left in the feeder . . . but there was no going back now. Of course, Will coming with me wouldn't be such a big deal if it wasn't Monday. Something had occurred to me a few days ago that had made me snort with black humor.

Before, when there was hope for what I wanted, every day in the week – besides Monday and Tuesday – seemed to drag on for eternity. Now it seemed like that was all my week was made of. I blinked and the other days were just gone. I shouldn't even be thinking about this, though. I shouldn't care what Vaughn thought.

In fact, I should probably want to parade Will around right under his nose, just to enjoy his sour expressions. Too bad being engaged didn't change my feelings for another man . . .

"Chelsea, everyone adores you. How could they not?" Will's voice was complimenting and cheerful, as always.

"Thanks," I sighed halfheartedly.

In this light, with his bright blue eyes almost gleaming in the sun, he reminded me of a loyal puppy dog, following me around everywhere and trying to make me happy no matter how impolite I was to him in return. I smiled a little to myself at the random thought before my humor vanished completely.

I took a deep breath and prayed Vaughn wasn't in the room when I went inside. Of course, I had no such luck. I actually couldn't remember the last time I'd had any luck with anything. Vaughn and Julia stood by the counter, talking in soft voices.

I wondered – very briefly – if his confession to his cousin and aunt had strengthened or hurt his relationship with them. I'd never really seem them interact before, so I couldn't really judge.

"Good morning, Mirabelle," Will said happily.

"Morning, dear," Mirabelle replied politely.

It had taken a lot of time and effort, but she and her daughter were back to normal. No more blank stares, pale faces, soundless and heartbreaking tears . . . I would always have the image of Julia's distant expression burned into my brain. I shuddered just thinking about it. It was just plain wrong.

Will turned and nodded to the two standing by the counter. "Hello, Julia. Vaughn."

"Hi, Will," Julia said.

Her eyes flickered to my face for a fraction of a second, and then they darted back to Vaughn. Obviously, she was worried that this little meeting wouldn't go over well. If I was being honest, a part of me worried the exact same thing. Vaughn's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed a bit, but he managed a stiff nod towards the prince.

"What would do you need, Chelsea?" Mirabelle asked.

Her tone was mostly lighthearted, but I could tell there was a bit of nervousness lurking beneath the surface. The entire atmosphere seemed tense. The only one who didn't notice this, of course, was Will.

"I need fodder," I told her quickly.

I absolutely refused to allow my eyes to stray to where they so desperately wanted to look. I couldn't even look at Vaughn directly anymore. I was so sick of hurt, so sick of pain and regret . . . so sick of my stupid, irrational love for him. I wondered for a moment if Vaughn knew that I was getting married. Would he even care? My throat tightened and my stomach dropped into my feet when I heard Will's next words.

Apparently I was about to find out.

"I spoke with Nathan yesterday," he said, "And he's very excited about the ceremony. Chelsea, we should probably tell our parents soon. I haven't even met yours. What are they like?"

"What ceremony?"

The words were sharp, abrupt and bone-chilling.

When I finally allowed my head to turn to the right, I saw a reaction that part of me was joyous about. Vaughn's eyes sparked with anger, and his hands balled up into fists. Without even the courtesy of explain why to the others, his hand curled tightly around my arm, and he started pulling me into the kitchen. Will's eyes widened, and he looked like he would come after us, but I raised up a hand to stop him. Vaughn pressed my back against the counter – not harshly – and gripped both my arms.

His tone was low and menacing. "What the _hell, _Chelsea?"

Defiantly, I pushed his hands away and crossed my arms over my chest. I tried very hard to look condescending, but, in reality, my heart was racing so fast and loud I was almost sure he could hear it. But of course that was silly.

"What, Vaughn? I'm marrying Will. Does that bother you?"

Vaughn paused, obviously not expecting me to be so blunt. But then his anger was back and he snapped, "_Yes._"

"Why?" I challenged, "You don't love me, remember?"

He inhaled sharply and looked away.

"That doesn't matter," he replied, gritting his teeth.

"Of course not," I grumbled. I tried to move past him, but he blocked the door.

"Get out of my way," I spat.

He glowered. "You don't love him."

"Yeah I do," I said.

"No. You don't. At least, not in that way."

"Don't tell me who I do and don't love. Right now, I'm thinking about who I _don't._" My answering glare was pointed and accusing.

"That's not what you said before," he growled.

"It doesn't matter what I said before," I answered, throwing his previous words back in his face.

"You're just doing this to get back at me." A trace of pain snuck into his voice.

I couldn't let it get to me – it would wriggle into my heart and torment me.

"So what if I am?" My voice was weak.

He was wrong – I wasn't marrying Will to get back at him. How childish and stupid would that be? But I was just saying things to piss him off now.

"Don't do it," he commanded.

"It's not your business," I said professionally, throwing _more _of his favorite phrases back at him.

I tried to move around him one more time, but his hands came up to hold my arms again, this time with much less force. His amethyst eyes were unfathomable for the longest time before the pain in them grew more pronounced.

"Chelsea . . ."

His voice was laced with pain, too. I closed my eyes and tried so hard to not be overcome with grief by his hurt. Hurt _I _was causing. But I was hurt, too. He had to know that. He had to know how much he was losing. So, when my eyes opened again, my tone was relatively harsh and emotionless. I pulled away and headed for the doorway, pausing to look over my shoulder and say one more thing.

"You made your choice, Vaughn. Now I'm making mine."

* * *

Inevitably, my short exchange with Vaughn in Mirabelle's kitchen came back to cause me great anguish. If it was difficult to watch his pain – emotional or otherwise – it was downright _unbearable _to be the one causing it. A small part of me realized that I had every right to say what I did. True, I had lied. I still loved him; with everything I had.

And he probably knew that. I had snapped and lashed out harshly at him, but even someone as stubborn and inflexible as him should recognize my reasons. He knew I was hurt. And it was wrong of him to accuse me of getting engaged to get _back _at him. I had to correct his thinking. I had mostly taken delight in the fact that he recoiled from the idea of my marrying Will, but it was childish on my part.

It was like I was grasping any straw I could to assure myself that he _cared_ for me. Even if it only measured up to half my affections, it would be enough. I couldn't help but wonder how this would affect Vaughn. Would he sink even deeper into the pit he'd dug himself into? A pit that was so incredibly deep that no one had even a prayer of rescuing him?

A deep wave of hurt washed over me, but I shoved it away forcefully. I had to do what was best for me right now. But, as I sat – staring out my window and the light summer drizzle – I couldn't help but wonder how much longer my sense of professional resolve would last. I would try to hang onto it as long as I could.

Visualizing Vaughn's pain was certainly not helping. I leaned back onto my pillow and stared up the ceiling blankly. Everything in my life had seemed to be heading in the right direction – I was starting a new life, a life I would surely be prosperous if I worked hard enough. I had been doing so well, building a farm and raising the Islands. And then my entire of plan of how I wanted my life to go seemed to jump headlong out the window, disappearing from the realm of possibility forever.

Before I'd gotten involved with this mess, when I concentrated on only my work, I saw things playing out in a certain way. I saw myself raising all the Islands, and buildings the best ranch possible, with high-ranking crops and happy animals that produced only the finest goods. After that, I saw myself possibly meeting someone, possibly falling and love, and maybe even getting married.

Wasn't the whole thing supposed to be relatively simple?

It was for Julia and Elliot.

Denny and Lanna.

Natalie and Pierre.

Why was it different for me? I was marrying Will, but I knew I would always think about Vaughn, probably in ways a married woman should not. So, besides the pain, I would also live with a lifetime of guilt. But I was so tired of these negative emotions.

A few tears escaped the corners of my eyes and ran down my temples, into my ears, where they puddled uncomfortably. I allowed them to close. And then I let myself do what would only hurt more later. I imagined life being simple.

The way it should be.

I imagined meeting Vaughn, falling in love with him and having him feel the same way. I pictured spending large amounts of time with him, and making him smile. I even went so far as to visualize myself marrying _him._

I'd never thought about it before, but I found image was quite enjoyable: picking out a pretty white dress, walking slowly down at aisle and seeing the right face at the altar. I imagined him lying next to me at this very moment, his arms tightly around me and his lips at my ear. I immersed myself so deeply in this fantasy that I actually felt a real jolt of disappointment when I opened my eyes and realized this was not so.

My dreams would never become reality.

* * *

A prompt, loud knock woke me the next morning. I yawned deeply and glanced at my clock; seven thirty. I hadn't bothered to set my alarm last night; I didn't have the energy. But the chickens and cows and the dog needed to be fed. My tomatoes and corn needed to be watered. So I couldn't be too annoyed with my early visitor. Dragging my feet sluggishly, I pulled the door open and was greeted by Will's perfect smile.

"Good morning, my sweet," he said, leaning forward at once to kiss me.

I smiled a little, but it didn't reach my eyes. "Morning."

A short silence fell over us. I thought it would be rude for me to ask what he wanted, but I really wasn't in the mood for company. _He'll be moving in soon, _a small voice in my head whispered, _and then he'll be around all the time. _A tight ball of butterflies coiled in my stomach at that. Especially when I thought about certain _wifely _duties.

Will's smile suddenly became a little apologetic. "My mother called me this morning and asked me how I was doing. I didn't tell her about our engagement, because I thought we should do it together, even if it has to be over the phone."

An entirely different kind of dread spread through me. It wasn't too hard to recognize that Joan wasn't entirely fond of me – due to my financial status – judging by my last visit. What would they say when they heard about _this? _

"Will you tell your parents as well?" he wondered.

"I suppose." I shrugged. They would be delighted, of course, but they would try not to show it. At least my Mother wouldn't. Will let me do my morning chores before we left for his ship, where a sleek black telephone awaited us.

He held out his arm for me to take formally. "Let's go."

* * *

"I'm not entirely looking forward to this," I admitted to him.

Will had just begun to dial the phone, but when he heard my words, he smiled a little.

"It doesn't matter what they think," he said firmly.

I sighed and looked out the window, at the seemingly clam ocean waters. Will waited through several rings before the phone was finally answered. I listened to his words halfheartedly. Most of my brain was wondering what Vaughn was doing right now.

"Could I please speak with my Mother? This is William," Will said formally.

He waited another few minutes. "Mom? Good morning again. Yes . . . I'm sorry . . . well, I have some news to share with you."

He paused. "Yes, it's good news. Wonderful news. It concerns Chelsea."

I smiled a little, picturing Joan's grimace.

"We're engaged!" Will's grin diminished a little as he listened to his Mother's response.

He sighed. "I know you do not approve, Mother. But there's nothing you can say to change my mind."

There was a long silence as Joan answered. Curiously, I strained to hear her voice, but it was simply too quiet.

Will frowned and bit his lip. "I don't think that would be the best idea, Mother . . . Well, we've already made plans."

He groaned. "You'll have to ask her."

Will held out the phone to me. I made a cut-throat motion and moved away.

"Please, Chelsea? She'll be nice, I promise." Will's big blue eyes widened persuasively.

Sighing, I took the phone and grudgingly held it to my ear.

"Chelsea," Joan said, "I've heard of your plans to marry my son."

My heart ripped a little at her words. "Yes."

"I disapprove," she said, "As does my husband."

"I know." My arrogant, haughty side decided to make an appearance, so my voice was a little sharp.

I heard her sigh heavily. "But I don't see how I can change his mind. If you insist upon paining me this way, perhaps you could ease the ache by granting me a small favor?"

"What is it?" I asked, instantly curious. What could I possibly give this rich, snobby lady that she didn't already have?

Her voice was almost hesitant when she spoke again. "You know I'm not fond of those little Islands you live on. I have no intention of ever seeing them. But I also do not want to miss William's wedding."

"And?" I interrupted, wishing she would get to the point. I knew I was only aggravating her, but I honestly didn't care what she thought of me anymore.

"Patience," Joan snapped. She paused, making me wait before continuing. "I want you to have the wedding here in the city. I know a marvelous old building I married Avery in. It was always my dream for William to marry in the same place. I could also invite most of our relatives . . . there would be more space . . ."

I instantly recoiled at the thought of returning to the city _again. _But – though I did not care for Joan or Avery in the slightest – it would probably be best to be on civil, decent terms with them. And this wedding wasn't about me.

It wasn't something that was supposed to happen. I wouldn't be fully happy, no matter where I was. So why now allow everyone else to be as happy as they could?

"Alright," I agreed reluctantly.

"Excellent," Joan said, actually sounding happy. "I'll need a few weeks to prepare . . ."

"I'll give you back to Will," I sighed.

I handed him the phone. He eyed me expectantly for a moment, and I knew I should probably stay, but I could not. I had to get out of here before I broke down. So I managed to peck his cheek before turning and heading home.

* * *

Joan set a tentative date for Fall 3rd. It seemed like so soon to me, and – just as I expected – the days flew by quickly. On Summer 29th, I sat with Julia at her kitchen table, trying to pick out centerpieces for the reception.

Avery and Joan had rented out a grand hotel with an exquisite ballroom to host the reception, and they insisted that I pick out absolutely every little thing. Maybe they did not like me, but apparently they very much enjoyed organizing parties.

"Roses or lilies?" Julia asked, holding out pictures of each to me. Her voice was a little too happy, a little too forced. While I watched, one of her eyes twitched.

"Roses," I answered lifelessly.

"Salmon or steak?"

"Salmon."

"White or cream?"

"Cream."

Julia sighed and set aside our little organization book. She finally abandoned her joyous act and stared at me with sad eyes.

"Your dress is almost done – created by some famous designer. Joan said he was fabulous."

"I'm sure he is," I answered inertly.

Julia's eyes suddenly welled up with tears and she dropped her head into her hands. I snapped out of my apathetic state long enough to have the sense to comfort her. I got up from the table and stroked her hair.

"Julia, it's alright, it's okay," I murmured softly.

Slowly, she sat back up and wiped her tears away. "This is so stupid," she said, her voice low and shaky. "You shouldn't be comforting _me_."

I shrugged. "It's fine."

"This isn't what you want," she whispered.

A long silence passed between us while I considered whether or not to lie. But I eventually decided that there was no point.

My answer was firm and sorrowful. "No."

She looked up at me with deep, sad blue eyes. "Then why are you doing it?"

"Because it's what's best for me," I said, "What I should be doing. It's financially secure. Will loves me. Why not marry him?"

"You don't love him."

"Yes, I do. Just not the same way."

"This is wrong," she groaned.

"It's not your problem," I told her, "Why are you so worked up about it?"

"Because I care about you, Chelsea. I _love _you, actually. I want you to be happy – you deserve it. And . . . whenever I think about your situation . . . I imagine myself marrying someone who isn't Elliot. It hurts."

I smiled a little. "You'll marry him someday."

"My cousin is your Elliot, isn't he?" Julia managed a small smile in return.

I made a face and attempted to be lighthearted. "I'm not into nerds."

She poked my belly. "You know what I mean."

At that moment, I heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen. The way my heart sped up and my stomach coiled in both nervousness and anticipation told me exactly who it was. I didn't turn to face Vaughn, not even when I heard the refrigerator open.

After he found out about the engagement, it seemed like he didn't even have it in him to maintain professional courtesy towards me. Whenever our eyes met, he gave me the same glare I received from him when we'd first met.

Only there was hurt mixed with the hate. Every time I saw it, it cut me to the bone. But if this was his only way of objecting, it wasn't going to get him very far. I continued to force myself to look away, but my willpower gave out and I had to look. Even though I knew it would only hurt, I had to see him. I had to stare at his oddly colored eyes.

Because if I didn't do this each week, I would surely go insane. As I knew he would, he glowered at me harshly. I did not glare back; I could no longer maintain my you-hurt-me-and-I'm-going-to-show-it attitude. I was sure my eyes were sad.

"Stop it, Vaughn," Julia snapped, "Just stop it."

His eyes flickered over to her in annoyance. "Don't tell me what the hell to do," he snarled at her.

He'd been cursing a lot more often lately, sometimes with words a lot stronger than damn or hell. He glanced at me once more before turning and stalking away, soda in hand. At least he wasn't drowning his sorrows with wine, like some people had been known to do.

"Sorry, Chelsea," Julia whispered.

I shrugged. "This is how it's going to be. I have to accept it."

"How can I ever . . . help you?" she asked brokenly.

I smiled bitterly. "Be my maid of honor."

She snorted. "Sure."

Without another word, she got her to feet and enveloped me in a wordless hug.

* * *

Will left for the city a little early, because Joan said there were a few last-minute preparations he needed to attend to. He left two days ahead of schedule, on a Saturday. I was supposed to leave for the city Monday morning, stop at Joan's house to get ready – Julia, Natalie, Lanna and Sabrina were all going to help me – and then Avery would escort us over to a regal brown building, where the ceremony would begin, promptly at four thirty.

This is what I was told was going to take place. This was the major event that was supposed to be one of the happiest of my life. This was supposed to be right. I had agreed to go along with everything, though. Of course.

Sunday night, I slept restlessly, tossing and turning in my bed all night, contemplating the next day's occasion. My mind tormented me with images of Vaughn, both sad and happy.

When I woke up the next morning, there were deep purple rings under my eyes, and my hair looked like death hit it at ninety miles per hour. I could only pray Julia and the others could make me somewhat presentable. I could imagine Joan's hysterics if I was not.

I had gotten around to telling my parents, as well, of course. Predictably, they both rejoiced I was marrying someone who well-off financially. But my mother had called me up a few days ago with a question.

"Chelsea, last time I saw you, you said things were working with you and non-princey. What happened with that?"

It touched my heart that she seemed genuinely interested. "That's over," I whispered, not even attempting to disguise my dead voice.

"Oh." My mother hesitated. "You don't seem happy about it."

I shrugged, though she couldn't see. "That's how life goes."

"I suppose," She agreed. "I hope you're a little happy about this."

"Will loves me. That's enough."

"And you don't return his love?"

"I do, in a way. A friend way," I said.

"I see. Well, I'm sorry things haven't worked out exactly as you pictured. But your life will not be difficult this way."

"I know," I sighed.

"I've got to go now, Chelsea. See you at the wedding. Joan has told me it will be fabulous." She hung up, off to her next scheduled manicure or foot massage or whatever.

She tried hard to be a good mother to me, but she was so wrapped up in her own life that most of the time she failed miserably. But the effort was nice. Sighing heavily, I reached under my bed to grab the bag I had packed for this little trip. Glancing out the window, I saw that it was raining. Heavily. The clouds were thick, dark and gloomy.

I wondered if the weather around here would always compliment my mood. I slipped my arms into a jacket and zipped it up – the zipper seemed very loud in the dull silence that hung over my house like a plague. I pulled the strap of my bag up over my shoulder and left the house, moving slowly even though it was bucketing down.

Aside from myself, there was no one stupid enough to be roaming around outside in weather like this. Julia and the rest were catching the boat to the city later this afternoon. I debated whether or not to go say goodbye, but that would be stupid, considering I would see her in a few short hours.

And besides, since it was Monday, there was always the chance of running into someone else . . .

Against my better judgment, I stopped a few feet from the Animal Shop, ignoring the droplets of water that splattered down my face and onto my clothes.

I didn't think about how terribly cold I was. I didn't think about the coming future. I didn't think about how stupid I must look, standing out in the pouring rain by myself.

I thought of nothing at all. My eyes closed for a second as I listened to the water droplets hit the ground – it was actually rather relaxing. It made me feel like everything was going to be alright, even though my heart knew I was wrong. After another long breath, I opened my eyes.

But just as I was about to turn, my gaze locked with a pair of hard amethyst eyes, depthless and unfathomable. Icy water dripped from the ends of my hair, down my back, and I shuddered almost violently. For a fraction of a second, I considered going inside.

To talk to him one more time before my lavishly Joan-designed wedding. But of course I dismissed the thought.

Vaughn stood close to the window, one of his eyebrows slightly raised, as if asking what I was doing. In answer, I shrugged a little and gave him a small, hopeless smile. Completely drenched and soaked to the bone now, I turned and began trudging away, using every ounce of my willpower to do it.

I felt his eyes boring in my back as I walked, and I breathed a sigh of relief and pain when I was out of his sight, on the bridge to Sprout Island.

I could see the rickety little boat in the distance, a black, distorted shadow through the clouds and rain. I would have to hurry. When I made it to the dock, I shivered harshly again before dragging my feet forward. It felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.

Dimly, I realized that my teeth were chattering. And then my ears registered a sound.

My lethargic brain took me a minute to realize what it was; footsteps, hurried and quick. Only mildly curious, I allowed my head to turn, and my eyes to squint through the rain. The figure moving toward me was so dark at first I couldn't make out who it was.

For a moment, I wondered why it was so hard to see.

And then it occurred to me that the only reason I couldn't immediately recognize this person was because they were in very dark clothes. There were only a few people on these Islands who did not dress in bright, happy colors. But, more than that, there was only _one_ person with jaw-length silver hair and eyes so odd they might be described as violet.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and I froze entirely. Vaughn – almost as wet and cold as I was – stopped in front of me, his breathing uneven and fast from sprinting.

"Vaughn?" My voice, for the first time in a while, contained genuine surprise.

More rain ran down my face, dripping into my eyes. I almost yanked my arm across them, desperate to see clearly. Thunder rumbled ominously in the clouds, and the boat had almost reached the dock.

Vaughn reached up to grab both of my arms, like he had before, and stared down at me with the same hard eyes from the window.

"You're really going through with this, aren't you?" His tone held pain, regret and – most of all – disbelief.

My voice came out ragged and bitter. "Of course I am."

I didn't try to move away. I didn't want to. But the boat had pulled up alongside the dock now. Sighing, I began to pull away from him. He wasn't having that. His hands dropped from my arms, only to curl tightly around one of my wrists. Wordlessly, he pulled me from the dock.

"Vaughn, I have to go," I said, weakly tugging.

He led to me to the large seaweed rock, just outside Gannon's house. He turned me so my back was pressing against it, and his hands slid into mine.

"Don't do this, Chelsea." He couldn't make eye contact with me as he said this; his gaze slid down to our hands.

The boat honked its horn loudly, obviously announcing it was about it leave and anyone who wasn't on board would be left behind. Anger welled up inside me.

"Why?" I said hoarsely, "Why shouldn't I go?"

"Because this isn't right," he said, his voice tinged with desperation.

I snorted, my humor black and grim. "You're just now realizing this?"

He stared down at me for the longest time, ignoring the countless raindrops that ran down his face, which was partially shielded by the Stetson.

"No," he said finally.

It wasn't until I felt tears running out my eyes that I realized I was crying. I pushed his hands away.

"Why, Vaughn? Why are you doing this now? Why did you have to wait until it was too late?"

His jaw clenched and his eyes sparked. One of his hands came up to rest on the side of my face.

"It's not too late," he said defiantly.

I leaned my head back against the seaweed rock, suddenly without the necessary energy to support it.

"Vaughn, I'm engaged," I moaned weakly.

"Chelsea."

That tone. I knew that tone. It was the same as before, low and gentle. The way it had been spoken in the city, when I was sick in bed. The way it had been said the day before I had been shattered, when he was holding me tightly in his room. It would be my undoing.

Still, my boggled brain continued to babble, the words stringing together so closely it might have been a little jumbled. "You already ended this."

His eyes were just as intense as his voice. This was also a look I knew, probably too well. His head began leaning down toward mine.

"Chelsea."

"Everything is already in place," I blathered, my eyes beginning to close.

There was just no use in fighting this. I had been a fool to even try. All rational and coherent thought left my mind the moment his lips pressed against mine. Suddenly, absolutely nothing mattered but this moment in time.

I had wanted this, been waiting for this for so long. And, damn it, I was going to have it. I think that he tried to kiss me gently, tenderly, the kind of kiss that would have matched his tone. But the moment he felt me responding, when he felt my hands in his hair and my mouth moving demandingly, everything changed.

His whole body was suddenly pressing me tightly against the rock, and then his lips parted and his tongue pushed into my mouth. I returned the favor eagerly. He moaned, his voice rough and low. One of his hands tangled in my hair, and the other rested on my hip. But then we had to break away, gasping raggedly for air.

After a moment, he kissed me again. This time it was his initial attempt at a gentle, loving kiss; his thumb caressed my cheek. The same feeling I'd experienced two other times before came rushing back; I felt high, happy.

More happy than I'd been in what felt like forever. But besides the excitement and desire pulsing through my veins, there was something else, and it was much deeper and emotional. This felt _right. _So right. Like I should kiss Vaughn and never stop. There was no nagging little voice in the back of my mind. This was . . . . incredible.

When I opened my eyes, I glimpsed over his shoulder; the boat was gone. And yet I couldn't bring myself to feel an ounce of regret, no matter how terrible that may have been. When my gaze flickered back to Vaughn's face, he was smiling. Really smiling. Like he was the outrageously lucky winner of a grand prize.

I'd never seen this expression before; it made my pulse quicken and my heart warm. Besides the happiness, there was also a sense of triumph, possibly even a tinge of smugness.

"Let's go inside," he said, his voice still a little husky.

Another shiver rippled through me, and I realized I was still freezing.

Whereas before it felt like I was on fire . . .

Without another word, I moved away from the rock and reached for his hand. And then we walked to the Animal Shop.

When we got inside, Mirabelle and Julia were nowhere to be seen. I wondered if they somehow knew I would come back with Vaughn and they were giving us a little privacy. But how could they possibly have known?

"Go ask Julia for some clothes," Vaughn said, blushing a little.

I laughed, and then walked down the hall. Suspiciously, the door opened before I even had the chance to knock.

Julia seemed a little smug. "Need clothes, Chelsea?"

I pushed into her room and tugged open a random dresser drawer. "Yup."

"You didn't go to the city," she observed.

"Nope."

"Does this mean what I think it means . . . ?" She smiled.

I bit my cheek as I pulled out a t-shirt and some jeans. As I stripped and changed, I wore a small frown. "I really hope so, Julia. I couldn't take any more pain. And I've got to go."

She let me move past her and into the hall.

Just before I walked away, though, I pursed my lips. "You didn't plan this, did you?"

"You'll never know, Chelsea," Julia said, her eyes sparkling cryptically. Snickering, she the shut the door.

Out in the main room, Vaughn sat on the couch. He smiled a little at me. As I sat down, I studied his face more thoroughly than I had in a while. I couldn't help but notice how tired-looking he was. His eyes had rings underneath them, and he was a little paler than usual. He seemed almost exhausted.

Maybe he'd been like that for a while, and I just hadn't noticed.

"So," I said quietly.

He yanked a blanket off the couch and handed it to me without comment.

"Don't you need to change?" I asked, wrapping it around myself and realizing he was still in wet clothes.

Vaughn shrugged. "I'll do it later."

A short silence passed, and I knew he wanted me to speak first. I drew in a deep breath.

"Vaughn, why did you come and stop me today?"

His eyes bored seriously into mine, and all traces of any sort of amusement vanished from his face. He looked away, out the window.

When he spoke, his voice was soft. "I couldn't live with knowing that there were _two _weddings in my life I should have stopped, and didn't."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Hmm."

"I didn't think you would actually do it," he whispered.

"I had to do what was right for me," I answered, "My logic was that if I couldn't . . . have what I wanted . . . I should settle for the next best thing."

He snorted. "You shouldn't settle."

"You did," I said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You settled on living a life of pain and regret. You don't have to. You could let go. You could be happy."

He was suddenly staring at me again, a perfect poker face. "Chelsea, I'll never be able to let it go. Maybe I could be happy, but . . ." He sighed. "I don't know."

"Vaughn . . . why did you stop me?" I repeated, trying to get a more detailed reply from him.

He waited for quite a while before answering, but it was closer to what I wanted.

"I had to. At first I didn't know why. I hated you for a long time, you know." He smiled grimly. "But you intrigued me. I thought about you much more often than almost anyone. And it annoyed me, because I couldn't understand it. I didn't _want _to understand . . . I just wanted to keep going with my meaningless existence."

"It's not meaningless," I whispered, "You're everything to me."

A small tear fell from one of my eyes. "I love you."

"I know you do," he said quietly.

A very long silence passed, and my heart ripped a little.

But then – so very softly – his voice broke the quiet. "I love you, too. Much more than that blonde idiot ever could."

I smiled through my tears, and joy so great it felt like it would burst welled up in my chest. I didn't think about anyone else at this moment – just Vaughn and me. Not Will. Not Joan. Not Avery. Not my Mother. Not anyone else who thought they knew what was best for me. I knew what I wanted. And suddenly I could have it. This was going to be difficult, and sometimes it would be painful, because he still had issues.

Maybe he always would. But it would be so much better because we would deal with them _together. _I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his neck again, pressing a kiss to his lips, his cheek, his nose, his throat, his collarbone. His arms wrapped around me, too, and I didn't even care that they were cold and wet.

"I want you forever," I whispered in his ear.

His cheeks darkened in color again. "Yes," he agreed.

His tone might have seemed rude if I didn't know he was agreeing with me. I closed my eyes against his chest. For now, everything was right. For now, the future seemed bright and happy.

But that was not to say we would not encounter serious problems.

**A/N: Just in advance, I apologize for the length of this Author's Note.**

**Originally, Chelsea's and Will's engagement was going to go on for a little while longer. But your passionate reviews convinced me otherwise – you guys are amazing. And a little frightening, lol. **

**You know, after I finished my other V/C story – Beginning of Forever – I wanted to do another, but for a while I had no ideas. Then, out of nowhere, I pictured this scene. Chelsea was leaving for the city for an unknown reason. And it was raining heavily. Vaughn followed her to the dock and stopped her from leaving. And, of course, they kissed ****. So it's like my whole story was leading up to this chapter. And I finally got to write it! **

**A** **few people asked if this story was going to remain V/C. And the answer is a resounding YES. I would never do a serious Chelsea/Will fanfiction. So no matter how dreary things get, always remember . . . VaughnxChelsea forever! **

**I would also like to clarify: this is not the end. The way I see it, Love and Hate will probably contain 4-5 more chapters, with the very faint possibility of a sequel. **

**This before-the-end-of-the-week update was for sprite21. **


	15. Anniversary

_15: Anniversary_

"I think it might start raining soon," I observed, staring up at the darkening clouds. I hugged myself tighter against him. "Which sucks."

Vaughn chuckled. "It rains much more in the city."

"All the more reason to despise it," I mumbled, letting my fingers stroke his cheek, his jaw.

I sighed wistfully. "I wish you were on the Islands more often."

"Fond of me, aren't you?" His amused amethyst eyes flashed with laughter.

I smiled to myself, savoring the sound, though he was still being arrogant. That was just part of who he was.

"A little," I said nonchalantly, like it didn't matter.

I turned my gaze up to the thickening clouds again, trying to make out pictures. I felt at peace, which was an emotion I had not experienced in quite a while. I never wanted to let it go. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, content.

It was so nice, so _normal, _to be lying in the grass on Lighthouse Island, next to the shattered remains of the ruined building. It would have been nicer to do this on Meadow Island, but there always seemed to be at least one person wandering aimlessly around. And, of course, I couldn't complain too much about my surroundings because my attention really wasn't focused on it.

What really mattered was _who _I was with.

Vaughn had little to do for Mirabelle on this partially cloudy Tuesday afternoon, and he was willing enough when I suggested we do something together. He was on his back, and I was lying next to him on my side, with my head on his shoulder and my arm slung over his chest. I tilted my head upwards so I could kiss his throat.

"Shouldn't we be doing something?" he mumbled after a minute.

"What do you mean?" I asked between my kisses.

He was silent for a few long minutes, as I knew he would be. It had been exactly one week since the dock incident, and ever since then, slowly – so slowly – I got him to talk to me more than he ever had before. Sometimes I pried and had to drag words out of him, and other times I knew he wanted me to stop. I was getting to _know _him.

"I'm not used to . . . lying around," he grumbled, "It feels weird."

"I know," I agreed, "It _is _a little strange."

"My company makes it easier," he allowed.

I smiled a little. Besides getting him to talk more, sometimes – almost randomly – he would give me little compliments, hidden by his fake indifference. Things like this made my heart speed and my very soul warm. He loved me.

"You like me, too," I whispered in his ear.

"You're alright." He chuckled a little, because he knew how those words got under my skin.

I rolled my eyes and pretending to grimace at him. Vaughn smirked and turned his head to look me in the eye, suddenly intense. Without another thought, I leaned in a little to kiss him. It still seemed amazing to me, that I could be so lost in the powerful emotions it inspired; excitement, desire and love.

Most of his kisses were rough, but sometimes – when I least expected it – they would be soft and tender. This one, though, was nothing like that. He made a low, desperate sound in the back of his throat, and then his body was suddenly rolling on top of mine. His weight was not uncomfortable; he held most of it off me with one of his hands; the other ran down my sides, never crossing any lines, but still so entirely intoxicating. Fire coursed through my veins, and I hated breaking away for breath.

His mouth moved to trail little kisses down my neck, and over my collarbone. When I brought his lips back to mine, the sense of desperation vanished and the kiss became something loving and passionate.

When his forehead was leaning against mine and we were both panting heavily, I managed to breathe, "I love you."

He rolled back onto his back and closed his eyes. "I love you, too."

I reached out so I could hold his hand, but I otherwise stayed where I was. I stared up at the clouds again, smiling at the imagined images. My pulse was still pounding from the kiss – it was so different from what I'd experience before . . . For a moment – because I was somewhat of a decent person – a terrible feeling of guilt washed over me.

It wasn't fair to compare the kisses I'd received from Will and Vaughn, because I wasn't in love with Will. This whole situation wasn't fair to Will. I closed my eyes as I remembered what had happened when I'd finally told him about my feelings for Vaughn, after he arrived back on the Islands . . .

* * *

I lay on my bed in my farmhouse, biting my nails and staring at the wall. Will had called Julia after I hadn't shown up in the city as planned. Julia hadn't told him much – just that he needed to talk to me, and that the wedding would be postponed.

He'd asked if I was alright. Julia said yes. So, on this overcast Tuesday morning, I was waiting in my farmhouse for Will to arrive and the torture to begin. I didn't look forward to this little talk. I hoped that he would take it well – after all, he did have a bit of a reputation as a flirt when he moved here. Surely it wouldn't be difficult for him to revert back to his previous ways. He was with Lily quite often . . .

Three loud knocks tore me away from my thoughts, and I was suddenly on my feet, heading towards the door. Taking a deep breath, I pulled it open.

"Chelsea, what's wrong? Did something happen?" Will was speaking before I had the chance to greet him.

"No, everything's fine," I assured him. _Fine . . . and wonderful . . . and perfect. _

I gestured for him to come in. His expression still a little wary, Will stepped inside. I closed the door and turned to face him. A long silence passed as I attempted to talk. I'd made up this long, organized speech long before he'd arrived, but I was having much difficulty recalling it. My mind wasn't cooperating – every time I tried to remember, I came up blank. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Will . . . ," I managed to say, looking over his shoulder and out the window.

Will took both my hands in his own, and waited until I met his gaze before he spoke. "Chelsea, why didn't you come to the city yesterday?"

I pulled my hands away and swallowed against the lump in my throat. Without replying, I turned and walked to my small dresser. I pulled out the small top drawer and rummaged around for a minute. Behind me, Will waited silently.

With shaky fingers, I found what I was looking for; the pretty, long blue feather. Cradling it in one my palms, I walked back to the blonde prince and handed it to him. I sighed and forced myself to look him directly in the eye. I was pleased with how firm and strong my voice sounded when I spoke again.

"Will, we can't get married."

Will stared at me for a very long time before answering. A wide range of emotions flickered in his wide blue eyes; sadness, bewilderment, pain . . . and then something else. Something I hadn't expected to see.

_Comprehension. _

Like he'd been working on a difficult math equation he didn't understand, and he suddenly got it. He understood. Still, his voice was sad.

"Why, Chelsea? Was it something I did?"

"No." I shook my head vigorously. "You did nothing wrong. You're wonderful."

"Thank you." He managed a tiny smile before he became serious again. "I love you, Chelsea."

Pain twisted my heart, but it wasn't the kind I might have felt, if I was a better person. I felt terribly for causing Will pain, because he certainly didn't deserve it. But I couldn't force myself to feel even a tiny shred of regret. Half of my brain was still focused on being incredibly ecstatic over what happened yesterday.

"I love you, too, Will," I sighed.

It was time to tell him the truth. "But I don't love you . . . the same way."

"What do you mean?" he wondered.

"I love you . . . as a good friend. The same way I love Denny or Julia. There's nothing . . . romantic about my feelings." My voice never wavered.

Will sighed and looked away, his expression strangely thoughtful. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

This was the hardest part of the conversation – basically admitting to using him. Feeling so utterly and horribly like a _bad_ person.

"Will, I never wanted to hurt you. You have to believe that," I murmured, trying to be persuasive, "And I ask that you listen to me without making any harsh judgments. Try to understand . . . where I'm coming from."

It was a lot to ask. I knew that. But I thought Will was a good enough person to not be completely close-minded.

"Alright," he agreed after a minute, his voice low.

"Will, I agreed to spend the Starry Night Festival last Winter – our first . . . date, remember? – with you because I was trying to get away from some . . . negative emotions that someone else was causing me." I prayed that, as I continued, my little speech would make sense.

"And it worked for a while. As time went on, I kept going back to that person in hopes that something might happen with him. But it seemed like every time I made a little bit of progress, everything would come crashing down and I'd get hurt again. And then he made it clear to me that nothing would ever happen between us . . . so, when you wanted to start dating me, I had no reason to say no." I drew in a deep breath.

"And I knew that being with you would be best. It seemed like the right thing to do, the thing that made everyone else happy . . . and I liked you, Will. I really did. In time, I began to love you. I just never fell _in _love with you. I was doing what everyone thought was right, but I need to do what's right for _me._"

His expression was entirely unfathomable, so there was no way for me to decipher his emotions as I spoke.

"When we were together . . . it was nice, but I . . . it never seemed fully right to me. My heart was never fully in it. And you don't deserve that – you deserve someone who's devoted to you."

"There's someone else," Will said. His voice was not a question, just a statement of fact.

Nausea rolled around uncomfortably in my stomach. Whenever this happened to someone else, I was always so critical to them. I tried to speak again, but it felt like someone had stolen my voice.

"Would you allow me to guess as to whom?" Will asked. His voice was not harsh; it was polite, as if we were talking about the weather.

I sighed. "Sure."

"I'm thinking it might be Julia's rather silent cousin."

Selfish curiosity motivated my next words. "Why do you think that?"

Will sat down in one my little wooden chairs, thoughtful again. "I think I've always known. I mean, I'd only seen you around him a few times, but . . . I don't know. You looked at him differently, I suppose. Differently than you looked at anyone, even me. Like he was special to you . . . like you loved him. Part of me suspected it, but I always ignored it. Ignorance is bliss, after all."

He smiled, a little wistfully.

I dropped onto my knees in front of him, letting my head rest on his knee. A tear escaped the corner of my left eye. "I'm so sorry, Will. But you're right. I do love him."

His hand went under my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. "I'm assuming this means the end of us."

He sighed. "It's a shame, Chelsea. We could have been good together. I adored you. I still do."

"You'll get over me. You like Lily – I can tell." I managed a small smile.

He turned a little pink. "I . . . well, yes, I do."

Another long silence passed before Will and I got to our feet. Wordlessly, he pulled me into his arms for a hug.

Randomly, he whispered it my ear, "My mother is going to despise you."

I laughed loudly, imagining her response to this whole thing.

"I can't say her annoyance displeases me," I told him honestly, "I don't like her."

"I know. She doesn't like you."

I felt him shrug. He squeezed me tightly in his arms before pulling away.

"I wanted this to work out differently, Chelsea. Part of me wants to go kill him." He laughed. "But that wouldn't be very gentlemanly, would it?"

"Nope," I said, "It wouldn't."

He half-smiled, reaching for the door and pulling it open.

"We can be friends, right?" I asked quietly.

"I would like that," he answered.

He held my gaze for a long moment. The silence was sad on his part, at peace on mine. No matter how much this hurt, it was necessary. It was what I wanted to do. I was going to be happy. And I was glad Will had taken it so well. Maybe he wasn't as in love with me as he claimed.

"Goodbye, Chelsea." His voice was didn't falter – it was firm, accepting.

Feeling a strong sense of resolve, my answer was just as strong.

"Goodbye, Will."

* * *

I sighed. I was still a little uncomfortable with the memory, but it seemed like everything was working out alright. Will was taking my advice – he started dating Lily just a few days ago. He claimed it was difficult to be start dating so soon, but I saw him laughing with her a few times. I saw them on Volcano Island together a lot.

They were reasonably happy. I hoped – for Lily's sake – that she had a bit of money, because if she didn't Joan would rip her head off and chain Will to the house. I smiled a little. Will had been right when he said his mother would hate me. She called me up a few days after I broke up with Will, and she called me a few colorful things I'd rather not repeat.

Will apologized profusely when he heard, but I assured him that it was alright – I had expected it. And it didn't matter what she thought. It didn't matter what the other Islanders though. Most of them knew by now that my engagement was off, and that I was with Vaughn. They knew Will was with Lily.

Some of them gossiped about how scandalous the whole thing was – Eliza in particular ate up the whole thing – and some of them largely disapproved, but their overall behavior towards me never changed. A few had inquired details about it – Natalie was the first to approach me with questions, because she was never one to be subtle. I basically told her that things didn't work out with Will and me.

That was all she really needed to know. The only people who would ever know the whole story was Vaughn, myself and Julia. And perhaps Elliot, if Julia couldn't keep her mouth shut. It seemed like – finally – everything in my life was working out exactly how I dreamed, how I wanted it to.

A few small raindrops dropped unexpectedly onto my face, and I blinked, realizing how dark the clouds had become. Vaughn got to his feet, reaching out a hand for me to take. He helped me up, and then we boarded my little boat and headed back to Ranch Island, as the residents here called it. It seemed fitting enough to me.

The rain picked up, so the both of us practically ran back to my farmhouse. As we went inside, I was laughing.

"What?" Vaughn asked.

I shrugged. "There's something wonderful about getting caught in the rain."

"Wonderfully wet." He made a face, and took off his hat, which was dripping.

"I wish you'd quit wearing that," I said, thinking out loud.

His eyes widened a little. "What? The hat?"

"Yes," I said, reaching up a hand to place against his cheek. "It covers your eyes too much. And you pull it down when you smile."

He rolled his eyes. "You don't have to be so sentimental."

I smiled a little. "Heaven forbid I be a little romantic."

Vaughn kissed my forehead. "As a rule, I'm not into that sappy stuff."

"I can tell." I made a face at him and tried to move away.

He caught my wrist and pulled be me back, putting his hat down on the table so his arms could wrap around my waist. He sighed, but his eyes were amused. He tilted his head so he could kiss my lips lightly. My heart fluttered, and I took a deep breath in contentment.

"There are exceptions to every rule," he murmured softly.

I chuckled. "I should hope so."

He smirked a little before kissing me again, parting my lips with his tongue. Gasping for breath after a minute, I managed to push him up against the wall. My hands slid under his shirt, tracing the hard muscles of his abdomen. It was at that precise moment a shrill, loud beeping interrupted the moment and registered in my foggy brain.

Groaning unhappily, Vaughn looked at his watch and turned off the horrible little alarm. "Chelsea, I've got to go."

I sighed. Without thinking, I blurted out my next words. "Do you think that – in the future – you might move to these Islands?"

He stared at me for a long moment, indecision in his amethyst eyes. "Maybe."

I snorted and looked away. "I forgot – you don't really like it here."

Vaughn waited until I met his gaze to speak again. "I wouldn't be moving here for the environment, Chelsea."

I smiled, and kissed his mouth once more. "See you next week."

* * *

The days dragged on so very slowly. But – as I had before – I concentrated my mind on my work to distract myself from the boredom. I purchased a little sheep from Mirabelle, and named it Lacy. My crops seemed to be coming along very nicely, and I almost had enough sunstones to raise Animal Island.

Taro had found a few of them mysteriously mixed in with things in the shipping bin, and Lanna gave me one she'd found in a dead fish's mouth. I upgraded my refrigerator and my cabinet, and I had Gannon change my wallpaper. My walls seemed so incredibly boring – it was nice change.

The sky blue paper had beautiful white swirls printed all over, resembling snowflakes. It reminded me of my birthday, which was alright for the moment, as I was only twenty rwo. Maybe I'd change it by the time I hit thirty. Besides my boredom and impatience, I was actually very happy.

Since I was so optimistic and generally kind with everyone, I received the same treatment, and my friendships with the other Islanders seemed to grow exponentially. I learned that Denny adored Sashimi, that Eliza loved donuts, that Shea couldn't stand empty cans.

I learned that Elliot was afraid of dogs, that Felicia hated porridge and that Witch Princess had a thing for bears. Julia was very happy for me. She admitted to me that she suspected I wouldn't go to the city, and that she had been the one to make Vaughn realize he should go after me. So I would owe her for that.

Forever. Ugh. On Sunday afternoon – the day I was more keyed up with anticipation than any other – I went into the Animal Shop, needing to buy some pet food.

"I'll take twenty five pieces," I told Mirabelle.

"I'm assuming you want it put in the feeder?" she asked.

"You assume correctly." I smiled.

"Have a good day, dear," she said as I turned.

I went into the kitchen, where I found Julia playing Solitaire with an old set of cards.

"Bored, Julia?" I asked, sitting down across from her.

She made a face. "Out of my mind bored. Elliot's helping his family with some shipments, and Taro claims I distract him when I'm around."

I laughed. "I can see that."

She smiled a little, but there was an edge to that smile. In fact, her overall attitude was a little tense.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No," she said, a little too quickly.

"You can tell me," I said.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "It's probably nothing, Chelsea. I'm just overreacting, that's all."

"To what?" I pressed.

"Nothing, it's nothing," Julia insisted.

But, by her tone, it seemed like she was trying to convince herself more so than me.

* * *

I stood on the dock very early Monday morning, watching Vaughn's boat coming closer and closer to where I stood. The week had been so incredibly long, and now he was finally here. All day yesterday, I had been thinking about Julia, and what she hadn't told me. Usually, when she had a problem, I was the first person she came to.

But if she honestly thought it was nothing, then there was nothing to worry about. Right? I shook my head to myself, shaking off the ominous thought. The boat pulled up alongside the dock, and it wasn't long before Vaughn was stepping out onto it.

I happily threw myself into his arms, hugging tightly. "I missed you," I said in his ear, my voice exultant.

I pulled back to see his face. He was smiling at me, but there seemed to be something other than joy behind it. He seemed a little tense, just like his cousin was yesterday. If I didn't know him well, I wouldn't have noticed it.

"I missed you, too," he agreed. Though his voice was edgy, he seemed sincere.

He took my hand and we walked to the Animal Shop together.

Strangely, Julia was standing in the main room when we went in. She stared at Vaughn, her eyes cautious. Nervousness welled up inside me. Julia was usually still sleeping when her cousin arrived, and she was always glad to see him. She never looked at him so warily before, like he was a ticking bomb, even when he was being particularly harsh.

"Why are you up so early, Julia?" I asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

Vaughn frowned at her, his eyes a little more than unfriendly. There was something going on here I wasn't aware of. Was it the same thing Julia was nervous about yesterday?

Julia shrugged and answered my question. "I just felt like it, that's all. Mom isn't up yet, Vaughn – you can relax for a little while."

"Alright," he said, his voice curt.

Another short silence passed – Julia didn't move.

Irritated, Vaughn finally snapped, "You can leave now, Julia."

"Vaughn, she doesn't have to go," I protest, bewildered as to why he spoke to her this way.

"I'd rather she did." He continued to glower at her.

As I watched, she raised an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head.

Julia finally looked at me, her expression deceivingly calm. "No, I have a few things to do, anyway, Chelsea."

She turned and headed down the hall without another word. Vaughn walked into the kitchen and got into the fridge. I waited for several long moments before I finally asked.

"Vaughn, is something wrong?"

"No." His voice was brusque.

The way he spoke indicated that he wanted me to drop the subject. Usually, when he wanted to, I did. But this seemed like it was really bothering both him and Julia. If we were going to make this work, he was going to have to talk to me.

So my voice was a little sharp when I spoke again. "Vaughn, please tell me what's wrong."

He turned, his eyes hard and cold. His words were harsh and tactless. "Chelsea, there's _nothing _wrong. Stop dragging answers out of me – it only pisses me off."

Hurt, I stepped back. My temper flared, and I glared at him. "If you don't like what I say, maybe I shouldn't talk to you at all."

I whirled and began stalking away, barely fighting back tears. I didn't get far – he caught up to me and pulled me around to face him.

His expression was remorseful. He sighed and leaned his forehead against mine.

"I'm sorry, Chelsea," he said quietly, "I just don't want to talk about it right now."

"Vaughn, we have to be able to talk to each other," I sighed.

"I know," he whispered. His voice bordered on pain now. "Later, alright? I promise."

He pressed his lips softly against mine.

I sighed again. "I've got some work to do back on my farm."

"Alright. Come back at noon for lunch, please?"

"I will," I agreed. I turned and walked out the door, feeling utterly helpless.

* * *

The next day wasn't any better. I went into the Animal Shop at nine in the morning, where I was greeted by a cheerful Mirabelle.

"Morning, dear," she said, "Come to see my nephew?"

Mirabelle had been willing enough to accept that I was with Vaughn. I wondered if she thought I was a terrible person; it wouldn't surprise me, but the idea caused me pain. I genuinely liked Mirabelle, and I actually _cared_ what she thought about it.

If she thought badly of me, though, she never showed it outright. And I didn't get the sense that she would say things behind other people's backs. Maybe Julia had told her more about my situation than I'd originally assumed?

I made a mental note to ask her later. But I put the thought on hold, because Vaughn walked into the main room at that moment. When his eyes met mine, he managed to smile a little, but I could see he had to work to do it. The same feeling of nausea rolled through my stomach, and swallowed heavily.

Somehow, I had woken up this morning and convinced myself that yesterday had been nothing. That nothing was wrong, that the atmosphere wasn't so overwhelmingly tense, that it was only my imagination . . . but it was plain to see that I had been wrong. Dead wrong. Vaughn didn't seem angry like he was yesterday.

He seemed sad. And he had that same terrible look in his eyes, the one that had become far too familiar to me. They were distant, unfocused . . . like he was seeing through everybody and everything. Like nothing in the world matted. Like he was truly haunted. I sighed, but forced a smile of my own. Part of my mind had known that days like this would come. But did it have to be so soon?

And did this sudden depression have anything to do with yesterday's irritable behavior? I wanted so desperately to ask, but I knew that I wouldn't get answers out of him. I knew that relationships didn't work if one person had serious communication issues, but things had seemed like they were getting better. I could only pray that this was only a minor drawback. Still, if he would only _talk _to me . . .

Vaughn stopped in front of me.

Sighing again, I kissed his cheek. "Is something wrong?" I whispered softly. There wasn't harm in trying, was there?

He tensed for a second, and whispered back, "No."

When I pulled back, I was almost certain that hurt was visible in my expression. For a moment, he looked repentant and sympathetic. His hand reached up and stroked my cheek.

"I have to work," he said quietly after a moment.

"I know."

"You could come help me," he said.

A little shocked at his words, I managed to shake my head. "I'd like to talk to Julia for a while."

His expression darkened. "Alright."

* * *

I knocked on Julia's door and waited for a few seconds before she opened it.

"Julia, you look terrible," I commented, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the way her hair seemed to shoot out in different directions.

She shrugged. "I'm alright."

I pushed my way past her without waiting for her to invite me in. I sat down on her bed – decorated with a pink flowers and yellow suns – and drew in a deep breath.

"Julia, I need to ask you something."

"What?" Her voice, if only a little, was defensive. Like she knew what was coming.

"You and Vaughn were acting a little . . . strange yesterday," I said, "And he seemed more tense than usual. Today, he just seems . . . distant. Isolated. More so than usual. I wish he would talk to me." One of my hands came up to rub circles on my temple.

Julia sighed, and picked up a hairbrush lying on her nightstand, pulling it through the tangles and wincing.

"Here, I'll do it," I offered.

She handed me the brush and sat down in front of me. I tried to be as gentle as possible, but there were a lot of knots. A long silence passed, and I wondered if she'd forgotten my words.

Finally, to remind her, I said quietly, "Julia?"

She hugged her knees to her chest. "I'm sure he tries, Chelsea. He's not used to talking openly with people – it'll take time."

"I know," I said, "But I already _know _everything. I could help . . ."

"I know you want to. Maybe you could. Which is why I think he's being stupid for not telling you what today is." The last part of her comment was spoken so lowly I wasn't sure if she meant for me to hear it.

If she thought I didn't, though, she was going to be disappointed. "Will _you _tell me?" I wondered, beginning to work on a particularly fierce knot.

She snorted. "Vaughn would kill me."

"Elliot would protect you," I offered.

I attempted to sound serious, but amusement leaked into a voice. Elliot in a fight with anyone was funny. Elliot in a fight with Vaughn was just plain hilarious. Julia heard the laughter in my voice – she elbowed me lightly in my ribs.

"Oh, shut up."

"I didn't say anything," I defended.

We both sat in companionable silence for a while before I reluctantly broke it. "Please tell me, Julia?"

She took a deep breath and groaned. "Fine. He can just live with it."

I handed her the hairbrush, and she set it aside. Then she turned to face me, her eyes sad and her voice broken. "It's like this every year for him, Chelsea. This is the anniversary of Marissa's death – she's been gone for eight years now."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Oh. Well, that explains it."

"Don't tell him I told you," she pleaded, "Wait and see if he does it on his own." I hesitated, but then I nodded.

I would wait and see.

* * *

Evening came sooner than I wanted it to. I stayed at the Animal Shop and had dinner with Vaughn, Julia and Mirabelle. After everything was cleaned up, Vaughn and I went back into his room.

"Vaughn, let me go back to the city with you for a few days," I said impulsively.

He blinked, obviously surprised by the unexpected request. "What? Why? You hate it there," he said.

I sighed, and looked away. I didn't need him to go home and be by himself. That would probably only inspire more depressing thoughts on his part. I hoped that – with my presence – this year might not be so bad for him. But, since I wasn't supposed to know what today was, I had to go off the things I'd observed myself.

"You just seem . . . distant," I said.

"I'm fine." His voice wasn't even defensive; it was spoken like a fact. It was too bad for him that I could see the sadness brewing beneath his calm exterior.

"I know you are," I lied. "But it would make _me _feel better."

"You've got the farm," he protested.

"Julia doesn't mind watching it for me."

"Chelsea, it's very unnecessary." A hard edge came into his voice.

Unable to think of another way, I wrapped my arms around his waist, and leaned my head on his chest. "Please, I want to come," I said softly, "If only for a day."

His body relaxed, and his arms came up to return my hug.

"Okay," he agreed quietly after a moment.

* * *

I waited and waited, but he was mostly silent on the boat ride to the city. I was still hoping he would come around and say what was on his mind. But of course he didn't. Part of me knew he wouldn't. That didn't make it hurt any less. By the time we went into his apartment – walking through fairly heavy rain, no less - my sadness had morphed into anger.

I knew that I was probably being selfish, but for the moment I couldn't bring myself to care. He should be able to talk to me. I wasn't entirely unapproachable, was I? I wanted to tell him what I thinking, what I was feeling. But I knew I'd be met with curt, short replies, anger or just flat-out distance. Really, there wasn't even a point.

"I'm going to bed," I told him, my voice coming out sharper than I'd meant.

He raised an eyebrow at my tone. "What's wrong?"

I gaped at him for a moment, wondering why it wasn't as obvious to him as it was to me. Anger pulsed through me again, and my next words were harsh and callous.

"You know what, Vaughn? If you don't want to talk, then neither do I."

Without even pausing to take in his reaction, I whirled and stalked into the guest room, closing the door loudly behind me.

**Vaughn's POV **

No words could possibly describe the thoughts I was plagued with on this foul day of the year. The others brought about their own amount of pain – which was a decent amount – but today was the worst. The killer.

Two years ago was when it had been at its worst . . . Julia'd had to talk me out of dumping whatever the hell I could find in my medicine cabinet down my throat over the phone. Yes, today was awful. But I would be lying if I said that this year's anniversary was as hard as the others. It wasn't. This was for one reason, and one reason only. And that reason had stalked away from me merely minutes ago, slamming the guestroom door almost violently behind her.

Chelsea.

I was still getting used to the strange, over-the-top feelings she brought out in me. I did not usually feel such regret over hurting another person's feelings. No, usually I didn't give a damn. But it was so different with her. Everything was different with her. For a moment, my pain was blocked out and the only thing I could feel was remorse. I hated hurting her. I knew why she was upset – she wished I would talk to her.

And I tried, I honestly tried. This in itself was odd. For me. I couldn't remember the last time I had truly tried to change anything about myself for another person . . . I wondered if she realized just how hugely she had changed me. I doubted it. Before, my life seemed completely and utterly meaningless. I went through the motions, I said and did everything I was supposed to, but I barely felt any sort of emotion for anything that happened.

I sometimes felt badly for Julia or Mirabelle, but those feelings paled in comparison to the strength of the emotions brought out by Chelsea. I loved her. Very much. I hoped she knew that. I closed my eyes for a minute and remembered a time – such a short time ago – when I had almost lost any sort of future with her. Julia had been the one to convince me to go after her in the end . . .

_I continued staring out the window, refusing to allow myself to feel or think. But I couldn't help remember, just a moment ago, when Chelsea passed by. She stopped in front of the Animal Shop and stayed there for a long time, despite the pouring rain. _

_She leaned forward a few times, like she was about to come inside, but then decided against it. The look in her eyes was nothing short of pain. For a moment, I considered stepping away from the window so I wouldn't be seen. _

_But I couldn't force my feet to move – I was frozen in place. After a minute, her gaze wondered over to where I stood. Despite the much more important questions running through my mind – why are you doing this? It's not what you want. How am I going to deal with this? It feels like I'm dying – the first one was simple – what are you doing? I asked this by raising one eyebrow. _

_I expected her to shrug, to smile, or maybe just to ignore me altogether. But instead, the smile she gave me wasn't the slightest bit happy, the slightest bit alive. Her eyes – seemingly dead – stared back at mine, and she set her lips in the most bitter, heartbreaking expression I'd ever seen. Chelsea was always so optimistic, so cheerful. And when she wasn't, she acted like she was. More than bitter, her smile was . . . hopeless? _

_Like she'd accepted the inevitable. I could emphasize. I'd already admitted to myself that I loved her, strange as the concept seemed to me. I knew she loved me, too, or at least she said she did. But it was too late. And this was for the best. _

_After a few seemingly endless seconds, she broke away from my gaze and started walking again, towards Sprout Island, towards the city, towards her new life. As I watched her go, a part of me I didn't even know existed seemed to shatter._

_Julia's low voice tore me away from my thoughts. "Vaughn, you're going to hate yourself forever if you don't go after her." _

"_I already do, Julia," I said, "So what's the point?" _

"_Stop that," she snapped. _

_I could hear her voice break, and I knew that if I turned I would see her tears. Though I felt so completely dead, I wasn't so apathetic as to not feel regret for my cousin's sorrow. _

"_She's not marrying Will for the right reasons, Vaughn," Julia continued, "She only doing it because it's what everyone else wants. If she can't be with you, she's going to settle." _

"_She doesn't need my problems," I snapped. _

"_Chelsea will deal with whatever for you, Vaughn. Do you know why?" Julia's voice was harsh. _

"_No," I lied. _

"_Because she loves you." Julia put a hand on my shoulder._

_Reluctantly, I allowed my head to turn and meet her gaze. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. _

"_It's not some stupid crush, Vaughn," she whispered, "It's real." _

"_Maybe the feeling isn't mutual," I growled, forcing my voice to remain passive, though my insides were turning at the repulsive lie. _

"_That's crap, and you know it." She sounded so sure. _

_I stared out the window again, realizing that Chelsea was no longer visible. _

"_Vaughn," Julia murmured. _

"_What?" My voice sounded hoarse. _

"_You deserve to be happy," she persuaded quietly, "No matter what happened in the past, no matter what you've deluded yourself into believing . . . It's true. Go after her."_

_In a flash of selfishness, I allowed myself to believe what she was saying. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to go after her. And suddenly I had to. _

Sighing heavily at the memory, I went into my room, pulling off my clothes until I was clad in only the black boxers. It got so damn hot her in the city, even in the fall. It wasn't really like that tonight, though – it was raining pretty heavily.

I leaned my head again the wall and recalled the memory once more. I didn't regret it – going after Chelsea was probably the best thing I'd ever done in my life. And I had promised myself, when we were kissing against the big rock outside the carpenter's house, that I would try to make myself as good as she deserved. I would not succeed, but I had to try. It pained me deeply to know I was breaking that promise now.

I should talk to her. Reminders of Marissa were seemingly everywhere . . . I wondered if Chelsea knew, every time I walked from the docks, I was walking by a large part of my past. I went past our old high school . . . the old coffeehouse we used to go to . . . and our old house. The three-story, beautiful house on the edge of Fisbury Street, with a white fence and a wide red door. From the outside, it seemed like the perfect family house.

From the outside, _we'd _been the perfect family. I'd deluded myself into believing the illusion, waiting until it was too late to save her . . . eight years to this very day. An image of her entered my mind without warning. I remembered exactly how she'd looked – wide, green eyes. Thick, dark hair. A pretty, girlish grin. Pale skin, a long nose and high cheekbones. The image became so real, I could almost hear her laughing.

Before Jack, Marissa had been so energetic, so full of life. She'd been the one to put myself and my mother back together after my father's death. She loved me. And now she was dead. Because of me, because my blindness . . . because of Jack. A violent shudder of sadness and anger ripped through my entire body, and I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes.

Yes, it seemed so wrong to pass all this along to Chelsea. She shouldn't _have _to deal with this. Yet she'd promised me that she was ready to handle anything with me, as long as we were _together. _Because she loved me, and I her.

I could never be fully connected to her as long as I was always so silent. I knew that, and I hated it. No matter how difficult it was for me, I needed to talk to her. I needed to hold her, to tell her I loved her, and receive the same response in return. I got to my feet, yanked on my jeans, and headed into the hall.

I didn't even pause to knock – I just pushed the door open and flicked the light on. But she wasn't in the bed, where I expected her to be. Assuming she'd gone into the living room, I whirled and headed there. She wasn't. I pushed the panic away, and went into the kitchen. She wasn't there, either.

Panic – the same kind of panic I had felt eight years ago, standing in the bar, on the phone with my mother – consumed me, rendering me completely frozen for a moment while my blood turned to ice and the one thing that made sense in my world seemed to fall out of place.

Chelsea was gone.

**A/N: Thought I'd post this a little early. Do you object? ;) **

**H****onestly? I think Will would be more sad rather than angry after finding out about C/V. And – in the game – he flirts with Chelsea so much, you can assume he does it with everyone else. He'd be hurt in the beginning, but . . . I don't know. I think he'd get over it. I try to keep everyone in character, but – since we're given limited dialogue, as this is a game – I have to guess with some things. Will's also sort of noticed Chelsea's fondness of Vaughn. He tried to ignore it. But he can't be hugely surprised. **

**I think we may see some of Joan's wrath in the future. Not sure. **

**So . . . what do you think of Vaughn's POV? **


	16. Choices

_16: Choices_

** Chelsea **

I sat on the bed in the guest room of Vaughn's apartment, staring out into the rain and trying to cheer myself up. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not come up with anything remotely optimistic.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and listened to the rain hitting the window. I preferred the sun over rain, but I had to admit that the sound of falling drops always had somewhat of a calming effect on me. I tried to think about this rationally, logically, without anger clouding my mind and distorting my thoughts.

It was easier said than done.

I had what I wanted – I was with Vaughn; he loved me, I loved him. Wasn't that how it was supposed to end? Hadn't I had enough drama for more than one lifetime? Weren't we supposed to sail off into the sunset together and live happily ever after? I snorted, realizing that was probably what I had been subconsciously hoping for all along.

I ignored that little voice in the back of my mind, warning me that was still serious problems we'd have to overcome. Not just problems with his past, but issues with how we were _together. _As a couple. Communication, for one thing, was very important.

Frustrated momentarily took over once again, and my thoughts went down a less reasonable path. Why couldn't he try harder for me? Why couldn't he talk to me about whatever was bothering him?

Did he think I would just blow it off and act like it was no big deal, because it's easier to ignore problems than face and resolve them? Did he think I didn't _care _for him enough? Or – worse than that – did _he_ not care for me enough? I did not doubt that he loved me. I knew that in every tiny cell in my body. But was it _enough? _

Enough to conquer his demons and allow us to start anew, a fresh, happy life together? I wanted so much to help him. But my desire to do so would be complete irrelevant if he wouldn't _let_ me. The idea that he did not love me as much as I did him was painful. Exceedingly so.

What if things didn't turn now like I so desperately wanted, even if they seemed to be going well now? What if my parents and everyone else were _right? _What if . . .

But – almost as soon as the thoughts had been completed in my head – another strong emotion began to consume me. Shame. I knew it was not wrong to have doubts, but it was wrong to let them get so far as to regret my previous decisions. Because – somewhere, deep inside my heart – I knew that I didn't regret them. I would have left Will a thousand times over if I had to. I would do whatever had to be done to be with Vaughn.

Surely he knew that by now. But that fact that, even now – after so much had happened between us – he was still reluctant with me, still a bit wary, pained me so deeply. Once again, I tried to cheer myself up with happier images.

But I couldn't seem to calm down. I _wanted _to be frustrated. I _wanted_ to blow off steam. I _needed . . . _to be away from here for a little while. To calm down fully; because I was only managing to work myself up.

Part of it was because the object of my thoughts was sitting in a room down the hall. But where to go? My parents' house was much too far away to walk – it was on the other side of town. I didn't have much money with me. Knowing that my options were limited only seemed to anger me further. So I wasn't thinking very clearly when I left the guest room, went down the hall, grabbed my jacket and left the apartment.

I wouldn't be gone long . . . Vaughn probably wouldn't even notice. It was the middle of the night, after all. For a moment, the image of his face – frightened and pained by a nightmare – came into my mind, and I was tempted to go back inside. But I easily called back my earlier anger and whirled, storming down the stairs and out the door.

I had the presence of mind to leave it propped open, just a little, as I didn't have a key. Shivering, I remembered how cold the nights could get in the city, especially when it was raining like this – even in the summer. I pulled the hood up over my head and zipped my jacket, hugging my arms around myself tightly.

Pausing, I looked up and down the street – at regular intervals, streetlamps were placed along the sidewalk. But Vaughn probably hadn't been joking about this being a bad neighborhood – a few of the lights were broken and useless. So the street was relatively dark when I stepped off the last step and onto the sidewalk.

The rain had lightened a little, but it still fell in a mild drizzle. I realized that this street was probably not the best for walking on at this time of night, especially alone. I recalled the ominous pair of eyes that seemed to loom in one of the alley ways every time I came here. Whether they were real or a figment of my imagination, I still didn't know. I needed to get away from this street . . .

I wouldn't go far, even though I knew this city well enough to avoid getting hopelessly lost . . . Still hanging onto my aggravation, I began walking down the sidewalk, listening to nothing else but the rain and my own soggy footsteps. I did manage to get away from that street – all I had to do was follow the patches of city lights coming from a general direction.

Half of this wrenched place was probably still awake. Most likely, I could dye my hair green, have a glass eye and grow a second head; and I still wouldn't stand out in the city. People wore, did, and said whatever they felt like without caring at all what others thought. Especially at this time of night, when all sane people were at home, sleeping in warm beds.

Even now, I could hear a few horns going off and people screaming foul curses at each other. My disgust for this place was quickly dissolving my anger, but by this time I was tired from walking. I stopped in front of a little coffee shop and went inside.

There were two other people there, sitting in a bench towards the back of the place, but I didn't bother studying their faces. The tired-looking cashier glanced over at me, asking without words what I wanted.

When I didn't respond, he heaved a heavy sigh, and said, "What can I get for you?"

I hesitated, realizing I did have about twenty bucks in my left pocket.

"Give me a donut," I responded, jerking my chin towards the glass, covering many delicious-looking pastries.

I was surprised at my own voice – it sounded just as worn out and heavy as the cashier's. But I didn't dwell on it for long, because he was handing me my order. I gave him the money and pretended not to notice his huge yawn. I ate the donut quickly; it was usually much too hazardous for me – and others – to cook anything remotely complicated back at home.

So I enjoyed this little treat. I could only wish my mind was untroubled enough to focus on it. When I was done, I leaned my forehead onto the table and closed my eyes. I knew it was wrong to be here. Even though the chances were slim, what would happen if Vaughn woke up and found me missing? I did not want to cause him stress.

Suddenly it seemed like a very stupid idea to come here – it wasn't like my little adventure had resolved anything. No, the only thing that was going to make it better was by _talking _about it. I would have to tell Vaughn that he had to be a little more open, or . . .

_Or what? _That little, tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered. _Or you'll leave?_

I rolled my eyes and smiled a little bitterly to myself. Perhaps there was a downside to being so completely and utterly in love. I could only pray he would listen to me. I yawned, and got slowly to my feet, only now registering how exhausted I was.

And I still had that long walk back to the apartment . . .

"G'night," the cashier called to me as I opened the door.

"You alright?" I couldn't help but ask.

Seemingly surprised, the cashier shrugged and smiled unenthusiastically. "I guess. Working some long shifts. But that's life in this big city, you know?"

I smiled back, thinking about Sunshine Islands. My home. The place I truly belonged.

"No," I replied, my voice sounding strange again. "I don't know."

Still smirking, I turned and exited the coffee shop, not even pausing to examine the cashier's answering bewildered look.

* * *

It was still raining. I frowned, wishing it would clear up – it made the walk back so much colder. It felt good to be walking away from the city lights, towards a quieter part of town. But perhaps I should have been more aware. Because – if I really thought about it – things seemed to be a little _too _quiet.

By the time I reached Vaughn's street, I'd become all too aware of this fact. I tried to push it away, because it made discomfort and fear well up inside me. Bits of garbage and other miscellaneous items were scattered all over this street, so, if I hurried because of the fear, I might end up tripping. I felt so completely numb and exhausted that I honestly didn't know if I'd be able to muster the necessary energy to get back up again.

A drop of rain somehow found its way under my hood, dripping through my hair and freezing my skin. Vaughn's building was visible to me now; the rain had picked up again, and it was coming down so hard I was squinting, my vision becoming long, dark tunnels.

Another wave of eeriness swept through me before I could stop it, raising the hair on my arms on the back of my neck. Dimly, my mind registered the feeling of recognition. Subconsciously, my body understood the feeling.

But I couldn't quite pinpoint it for a long time. Not until it was too late. As I approached one of the numerous dark alleys on this street, fear so violent in stopped my breath left me frozen on the sidewalk, staring with immobilized horror. That same set of dark eyes I thought I'd only imagined before peered out at me from the dark alley, illuminated only by the faint light of a street lamp, placed several feet away.

And suddenly I understood my nameless emotion. It was the bone-chilling, blood-curling feeling of being watched. I focused solely on the owner of those grey eyes, not even remembering to pull my hood back up when it fell to my shoulders, and my hair became hopelessly drenched.

The person staring back at me blankly was a tall, thin man, wearing torn jeans and a tattered black sweatshirt. He wasn't getting wet – maybe there was something of an overhang, connecting the rooftops somehow. We continued to stare at each other silently for a long time. My mind was telling me to run, run as fast I knew how, back to the apartment.

Characters who stood out in the rain at this time of night – in a bad neighborhood – were never good news. But I was locked in this stranger's gaze, still frozen with shock and panic, while my brain tried in vain to force my limbs to move.

My dreaded suspicions were confirmed, because a very odd look crossed the thin man's eyes, a mixture of mischievousness and possibly excitement. To me, it seemed positively sadistic. An abrupt rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I finally forced myself to step back. One step closer to safety.

The thin man acted so quickly that at first I did not have much time to react. He stepped forward, reaching out through the rain, and his hand curled around my arm. I sucked in a very deep breath, possibly to scream. Or maybe I was just gasping. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but the thin man was surprisingly strong.

His hand tightened further, to the point of sharp pain. I managed nothing other than another sharp breath at this, though, because he was suddenly yanking me backwards, into the alley. In the same instant, my back was pressed tightly against a brick wall, and the thin man was directly in front of me; I could barely see him at all in the limited light.

My body was on full panic mode now; I opened my mouth and let out the loudest scream I could physically force from my mouth, my throat. My limbs flailed, trying to make contact in any way they could – my hands were tightly balled fists, my knees coming up to find a certain place that would certainly cause him great pain.

My fist slammed into the side of his face as he reached into the pocket of his jeans for something, trying to cover my mouth at the same time. He mostly had been succeeding – the only sounds I was able to make were muted and distorted. But my punch at least threw him off balance; he momentarily let go of me, stepping back and making a pained sound.

Without pausing, I tried to bolt away; the adrenaline in my body made me fully alert, completely erasing any sort of tiredness. My mind – still incoherent with panic – focused on only one thing: _get away from here. _But as soon as I jerked away from the hard brick wall, his hands were suddenly back on my arms, slamming me back against it.

The force of it knocked the breath out of me, and the pain was suddenly so excruciating I went completely limp. The thin man muttered a curse under his breath, pinning me so I didn't sink to the ground, and yanked something from his pocket. My eyes seemed to be rolling around in my head, and I found it difficult to breathe.

But when I felt something very cold and very sharp press against the skin just under my jaw, I forced my mind to focus again. I tried to slap and punch at him again, but it was weak. I twisted my head to try and bite the hand that held the menacingly sharp knife to my throat, but he only pressed it harder, effectively cutting my skin a little.

Another loud cry broke through my lips.

"Quiet," the thin man snarled.

He put his mouth right next to my ear. "Gimme your money."

Swallowing thickly, I stared back at him with terrified eyes. Even if I gave him what I had – which was not much – what said he would let me go afterwards? Or – worse – what if he decided on doing something _worse _than stealing to me? My heart skipped a beat and then broke into a sprint at this particular thought.

"Okay, okay," I managed, my voice thick.

He allowed one my hands to reach into my pocket. But just as my fingers brushed against the money there, something happened so quickly my mind had to struggle to catch up. The thin man had been jerked roughly away from me by another, tall, dark figure that appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Then again, I hadn't been focused at all on my surroundings, and the rain would have drowned out any sounds of approaching footsteps. Again frozen with shock, my eyes tried to make sense of the scene playing out before me – I was still so utterly confused.

But then – as the thin man and the figure stumbled backward into that only part of the alley way that was completely illuminated by light – I could see clearly. My gaze focused on the figure; on his jaw-length silver hair, on the bare skin of his upper body.

But, most of all, I focused on the brief flash of amethyst as Vaughn's head whipped around to stare at me for a single second. A strange combination of relief and more terror washed through me. Relief because Vaughn was here. Terror because the thin man had collected his wits, and was currently raising his small knife, his eyes fierce and cruel.

My mouth fell open, and I shrieked, "Watch out!"

Vaughn moved away in time so he wasn't stabbed, but he received a long, jagged cut on his right arm. He let out a cry and jerked away, immediately reaching for the wound; his fingers came away bloody. But then his jaw clenched, and he glared at the thin man so viciously it scared _me_ a little.

Wasting no time, Vaughn slammed into the thin man against; they both stumbled backwards. My eyes widened as I watched Vaughn wrestle the small knife out of the thin man's hand – it clattered down onto the alley floor. Without thinking, I reached out and snatched the small weapon, holding it close to my chest, my eyes locked on the thin man.

The thin man paled a little – apparently he didn't like being empty-handed. He met both of our gazes and held them for a few short seconds, realizing that he had lost. Cursing again, he whirled and ran, down the sidewalk and into the rain. Vaughn tensed, and I got the sense that he was going to run after the thin man.

I hurried over to him – using my suddenly cooperative limbs – and placed restraining hands on his chest.

"It's okay, Vaughn," I said raggedly, my voice breaking, "Let's just go back. Please."

Vaughn glowered at the direction the thin man had gone, and then his eyes met mine. He maintained his glare for a few seconds before he sighed, suddenly wrapping both his arms around my waist, though one of them was bleeding.

"Chelsea," he said lowly.

His voice held reverence and relief; he held me tightly against him for a very long time. My body was trembling, my breathing was uneven, and my head still hurt beyond belief. But my mind registered that I was safe, and the adrenaline slowly left my system, leaving exhaustion and fatigue in its place.

I was safe. Everything was fine. Well, _almost _everything. Little drops of blood were running down his arm, and the cut looked terrible.

"Vaughn, let's get i-inside," I gasped. I tried to turn, but I staggered, suddenly so dizzy.

"Here," he said. He lifted me up into his arms, and started carrying me down the sidewalk, to his building.

"Don't," I protested weakly, "Your arm . . ."

"It's fine," Vaughn said.

And if I didn't know him so well I wouldn't have heard the slight edge of pain in his voice. But it was there – tearing, obliterating my heart. He shoved the door open, and we went upstairs, into his apartment.

He went straight into the guest room, lying me down on the guest bed. I wanted so badly to talk to him, but the pain in my head was like thousands of tiny needles piercing my skull. My eyes began to close, and I knew I was close to passing out. Vaughn ran out of the room, and I forced my eyes open again, wondering why he left.

But he was back very soon, with a bandage on his arm. It looked thick, but the outside of it was already a little red.

"Chelsea, are you hurt?" His words were rushed and panicked.

I probably should have told him what was wrong with me, but I was suddenly consumed with the raging desire to go to sleep.

"F-fine," I slurred, my head lolling to the side.

"Chelsea, don't go to sleep," he hissed, "You could have a concussion or something."

"N-n-o," I moaned.

There was nothing he could say or do. I was going to sleep, whether he liked it or not. My eyes closed, and unconsciousness claimed me more quickly than it ever had before.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, it was light outside. My head was still hurting, but it wasn't fierce and intolerable the way it was last night. I could bear it, but it was still very uncomfortable. The clock on the nightstand proclaimed it was two in the afternoon. For a moment, I was confused about why my head hurt so badly.

And then – all at once – the terrible memories of last night came back to me, every single one of them. I groaned, shuddering violently under the heavy blankets on top of me. Absently, I pushed them off me, and rolled onto my back. My head throbbed, and my hand naturally lifted to touch my injury.

My fingers felt around until they located a good-sized bump on the back of my head – touching it made the pain blaze terribly, so I pulled my hand back and sighed. "Don't touch it," said a very familiar voice from the doorway. "I'm not anymore," I moaned, leaning my head fall back onto the pillow. The ceiling was fairly uninteresting, but I focused on it as if it was the single most important thing in the world.

Aside from the awful assault yesterday, I was also remembering _other _things. What I had been thinking in the guest room. What had gotten me angry – and, honestly sad – enough to leave this apartment. Out into the wrenched city, on a troubled street, while it was raining and close to midnight . . . I felt a hand on my arm.

"We've got to go," Vaughn said, an edge of panic in his tone.

I wondered if it was due to my blank, empty expression. My head turned a little; the tiny pins were back, bringing terrible pain with them.

My breath came out a little raggedly. "Go to work, Vaughn. I'll be fine. I promise not to touch anything . . ."

His eyes widened, and then he looked at me strangely.

"Chelsea . . ." His voice was hurt.

I searched my previous words, looking for anything that might have been insulting. But thinking was tiring. One of his hands held mine tightly.

His voice burned with sincerity. "Chelsea, I'm not going to work today. We're going to a hospital."

"Why?" I moaned, "I'm fine."

"Better safe than sorry," he said, leaning down to slide one of his arms under my knees, the other under my shoulders.

"Especially with _you,_" he said lowly, picking me up.

We hailed a little yellow cab down on the street, and I vaguely registered Vaughn telling the driver where to go. But I didn't hear. My head didn't really hurt now, but it felt like I was falling. Like I had thrown myself into a black, bottomless abyss, never to return.

"Chelsea?" Vaughn's hands rested on my cheeks. He was still panicked, not knowing what to do. He tried to pull me against him, but I pushed away.

"Don't," I said bleakly, staring out the window and closing my eyes.

The dark continued to consume me.

* * *

I'm not entirely sure what happened at the hospital. I think a doctor examined me, I think he ordered some sort of scan, and I believe he gave me a pill for pain. I remember him saying I had a minor concussion and should stay in bed for a few days. He gave me a list of things I should come back to the hospital if I experienced.

And I tried to listen, because the information was important, but it was futile. Vaughn allowed some nurse to clean his cut properly, and then bandage it. When we got back to his apartment, Vaughn seemed relaxed. He sat me down on his black sofa and stepped back.

"You'll stay here until you're well," he said.

"I should go home." My voice was flat.

"You shouldn't travel right now."

"I'll be fine," I repeated.

Something about my words, my tone, shattered the calm.

Angrily now, he finally snapped, "Damn it, Chelsea – what's wrong?"

I snorted and looked away. "It's nothing, Vaughn."

He sighed, rubbing one of his temples. He held my eyes for a long time before dropping down onto his knees in front of me.

"Tell me what's wrong, Chelsea."

"Why?" I challenged.

"Because I want to know."

"I'll tell you later," I said. It was childish and immature for me to do this to him, I knew it. And yet I couldn't seem to stop.

"Chelsea . . ." His forehead dropped onto my knee, and his voice was so hurt my heart twisted.

A long, painful silence passed before he finally said something. It was low, broken and desperate.

"I'm sorry."

A tear dripped from the corner of my left eye. "I know. Julia already told me what was bothering you, anyway."

"I'm sure she did," he mumbled, "She's always in my business."

"She loves you."

"I know," he sighed.

"Vaughn, you have to be able to _talk _to me. You have to _want _to. Maybe you don't care enough. I don't know anymore." My head leaned back on the cushion.

His head jerked up, clearly surprised. "What?"

I sighed, not feeling like repeating myself.

Without warning, he suddenly pulled himself up onto the sofa with me, and then his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

"You know that I love you," he said.

"Yes," I agreed, "But not enough to talk to me."

His forehead leaned against mine.

He groaned. "I'm an idiot."

"Sometimes," I agreed, shrugging.

He waited until I met his gaze before speaking again.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "This whole thing is so messed up. Chelsea, I _love_ you. More than anything. More than you love me."

"Lies," I said.

"I still think about the past a lot," he whispered, "How could I not? The city is full of places I went to with her. The house we used to live in is here. Marissa . . . is here."

"Then move." My voice was persuasive, hopeful. "Move to the Islands."

"I have work here," he sighed.

"I make more money than I really need." I smiled a little.

"I'm not going to sponge off you."

"You wouldn't. You don't think I'd put you to work?" I chuckled.

"I'm sure you would." He rolled his eyes. "I can't leave, Chelsea. Being here is painful, but leaving would be . . . miserable."

"She's gone, Vaughn," I said, "She's not coming back."

He recoiled for a second, and I instantly regretted my words. My hands reached out to pull him back to me.

"I'm sorry," I said, "That was mean."

He shrugged. "I'll get over it."

I smiled at him, beginning to feel lighthearted.

"I'll try to talk more, Chelsea. But even if I don't, never think it's because I don't care." His arms tightened around me. "God, when I went into your room last night and you weren't there . . . I panicked. And then when I got outside, you were screaming . . ."

He shuddered. "I've never been so frightened."

Regret washed through me, especially now, seeing how deeply my impulsive actions had affected him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I just needed . . . some time to think." The amount of apologies now was bordering on ridiculous.

"So you went into the city, alone, in the middle of the night, while it was raining?" His voice was skeptical.

"I didn't really think it through," I admitted.

"Promise me you'll never do it again."

"Promise me you'll never piss me off that much again," I retorted.

He snorted, but didn't reply. He just looked at me for a long time, his eyes so intense and loving that I wondered how I ever could have doubted the sincerity of it. His head bent down, and his mouth was suddenly on mine. Gasping in surprise, I responded eagerly, roughly. The moment was perfect, right.

I had the deep, profound feeling that everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Over the course of the next two days, Vaughn didn't let me get out of bed. "My head doesn't even hurt anymore," I complained unhappily.

"Go bad to bed," he snapped, pushing me back towards the door.

Finally, on the third day, I convinced him that I had to go out, if only for a short walk into the city.

"Just for a little while," I'd pleaded, "These walls are starting to close in on me."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. But just for a while."

He took me to a more glamorous part of the city – I was through with any place containing alley ways, broken lights, and even the most remote reputation of violence. Little shops lined the sidewalk, almost everything imaginable – candy stores, antique shops, clothing stores, book stores, knickknack stores, cafés and bakeries . . .

I had to admit that the convenience of these stores was nice, and there was a whole lot to do. This was beginning to feel a bit like a holiday. But that's all it would ever be – because I lived on Sunshine Islands, with my big Island family.

"Let's go in the book shop," I suggested, "I haven't had anything good to read in a while."

Vaughn made a face. "Like reading, do you?"

"Very much," I said, "You don't?"

He shrugged. "It's alright."

"After this, maybe we'll find a store that focuses specifically on carrots," I joked, so lighthearted, so happy.

He shuddered. "Ugh."

I was so lost in my own little cloud of joy that I failed to notice the person coming out of a place called _Nancy's Beauty Salon. _I failed to take note of the long, shiny blonde hair. The familiar dangly earrings, the long red fingernails. But when my eyes met the almond-shaped, bright blue eyes of this person, I stopped dead. Vaughn stopped, too, and when he saw who I was looking at, he smirked, completely at ease.

I, however, felt like something was eating away at my insides.

Joan didn't take long at all to recognize us – her eyes widened and her mouth opened to form a small 'o'. After she got over her initial shock, though, she glowered at me.

"You," she said, jabbing her index finger at me, "are the most disgusting, wrenched person imaginable."

I sighed heavily, knowing she would say something like that. Part of me couldn't blame her, but the other, more powerful defiant part of me, was angry. Vaughn's humor melted away, and he glared with piercing, hard eyes.

"Don't talk to her that way."

Joan's eyes flickered to Vaughn. She frowned at him, her lips a tight, pursed line.

"I can't say I'm surprised," she snapped, "My son told me about your strange fascination with this one. You probably used my son for his money, and secretly messed around with _him_ on the side. You repulse me."

A small part of my mind was hurt that Will had said something to his Mother about Vaughn. But I wasn't majorly focused on it right now.

"I never cared about your money," I growled, "And I loved Will."

Joan shook her head. "I've had enough of your lies. I hope you fall off your boat on the way to those repugnant Islands and drown in the sea."

Without another word, Joan turned and walked away from us, her shiny fingernails glinting dimly in the sun.

My body almost trembled with the intensity of my rage – I was seeing bits of red in my vision. Vaughn apparently echoed my feelings.

"I've never wanted to hit a woman so badly in my life," he snarled lowly, glaring after her with hateful eyes.

I took a deep, calming breath, knowing that I would have to be rational about this before he got too worked up.

"It's alright," I managed to say, "She doesn't know the whole story. That's okay. Because it's not her business."

He continued to stare after Joan, mumbling insults and cusses.

"Hey," I said, grabbing his chin.

"What?" he grumbled.

I kissed his lips. "I love you."

He sighed. "Me, too."

I smiled, took his hand, and we started walking away.

* * *

After we left the bookstore – Vaughn followed me around dutifully for a whole two hours, though I could tell he was bored out of his mind – we walked around the city a bit more. I got a few new outfits, because there weren't clothing stores on the Islands, and I was in desperate need of new jeans.

We had lunch at the very safe Café I'd stopped in last night, but thankfully there was a different cashier. The last one probably thought I was insane.

"There's just one more place I'd like to go to," I said as we exited the little eatery.

"Good," he said, "I want to go home."

I rolled my eyes and started walking, knowing he would follow.

"Where?" he asked, a complaint in his voice.

"Do you whine this much when you're working?" I asked, amused.

He snorted. "No – I'd be unemployed by now."

"Keep it up, and you're going to be single, too."

"Ha ha."

I eyed the flashing sign of the little music store up ahead – I wanted to purchase a CD player. I routinely glanced over my shoulder a few times to make sure Vaughn was behind me – he lagged a little, but he kept up.

But, just as I reached the door of the shop, when I looked over my shoulder he was much farther behind that he usually was. He was staring into the window of a little store, at whatever was being displayed for sale.

"Vaughn, come on," I called impatiently.

"Go in, Chelsea," he called back, "I'll go inside in a minute."

I didn't go in – I waited another ten minutes before he finally tore his eyes from the window and approached me.

"What were you looking at?" I asked.

He shrugged and avoided my eyes. "Nothing."

I smiled, curious. I started to walk down the sidewalk, because I wanted to know, but his hand caught my arm.

"Chelsea, it's nothing." There was a hint of nervousness in his voice he was desperately trying to hide.

"Alright," I agreed reluctantly.

We both turned and went inside. Interestingly, Vaughn found some CD to look at in the store. I used this opportunity to slip away from his side, and out onto the sidewalk again.

I wanted to see what had held his attention for so long – he was so rarely distracted by anything. When I approached the window of the store and looked inside, my breath caught in my throat. My heart skipped a beat, and my limbs froze. Because this was a jewelry store.

And the only thing currently on display behind the glass was a sparkling, beautiful ring.

**A/N: So they're continuing to work on their problems. The angst dies down after this chapter, promise :). Two or three more chapters to go. **


	17. Happiness

_17: Happiness_

Precisely two days after the ring incident in the city, Vaughn finally told me that I could go home without him stalking me and locking me in the guest room. It was such a relief, because after we'd walked around the city shops, he had to go back to work. And I was stuck doing nothing as his apartment.

I missed Sunshine Islands; my farm, my friends, my home. So I was mostly overjoyed to step onto the rickety boat on Saturday morning. Of course, the other part of me was unhappy about leaving Vaughn.

"I'm so sick of this two-day thing," I said to him on the dock.

He smiled, and then bent to kiss me lightly. "I know."

"I really think you should move," I mumbled, a little cloud of fog hanging over my brain as his lips kissed along my jaw.

"Maybe," he breathed.

"Soon," I insisted, stepping away reluctantly.

"Mmm-hmm."

I smiled widely, turned, and got on the boat. I stayed on the deck long enough for him to become a speck in the distance as we got farther and farther away from the lumbering city buildings. But then it started to rain, so I went inside, sitting on one of the long sofas in the observation room.

I closed my eyes, and tried to ignore the steady rocking of the boat. _Maybe, _he'd said. My heart starting pumping at an irregular rhythm. I hadn't forgotten about that day in the city, when he'd been studying a ring behind the glass of some jewelry store. What was he contemplating as he stared at it? Did his thoughts center around me?

I hoped they did. Because, really, there was only one thing that happened when a man gave a woman a ring. A little zing of shock ran through me as I suddenly realized something. I smiled a little to myself, shaking my head.

Back when my life seemed bleak and meaningless, I remembered a specific night. The night before I'd agreed to go to the city and marry the wrong person. I recalled with clarity my tears, my pain, my depression.

I'd visualized marrying Vaughn. I'd imagined the whole ceremony, and I'd felt happier than I would have thought possible. I pulled the previously impossibly fantasy back into my mind now, enjoying it even more thoroughly now that it _was_ possibly. Likely, even. If proposing – or even seriously considering it – didn't prove that he loved me as much as I did him, I wasn't sure what did. I opened my eyes and stared out at the water.

Marriage is a very big decision. I tried to think about it logically, without the fog of joy. But I simply could not. I loved him, so very much. Of course we had our differences, and many of his comments drove me insane. He was arrogant, moody and anti-social. He was defensive, rude and sometimes cynical. And I was so infuriatingly in love with him. So my answer – if he ever actually asked – seemed quite obvious to me. The only thing to do now was wait.

* * *

Two weeks went by without any incident worth reporting. Vaughn came to the Islands on Monday and Tuesday, the same as usual. He tried to spend as much time with me as possible; Mirabelle was usually pretty lenient.

We talked, kissed, and sometimes just walked around. We fought, too, but it was usually resolved rather quickly. I continued to wait, very patiently, I thought. But he never asked. A third week went by, and I was getting impatient. I went over to Julia's on Sunday afternoon, plopping down on one of her dining room chairs.

My voice was probably whiny and annoying, but Julia could take it. She was always the one I talked to in high school, not matter how insignificant my problem was.

"Julia, how long have you and Elliot been together?"

She seemed surprised by the question. She thought for a minute, and then shrugged. "About a year, give or take a few weeks. But we were friends for a long time before that. Why?"

I shrugged and looked away. "Do you ever wonder when he'll pop the question?" I asked bluntly.

She laughed. Interestingly, I detected a slight hint of exasperation in her tone; she was impatient, too. "Yeah, I wonder. All the time. It's pathetic."

"It's not," I said.

She set a big plate of cookies down on the table – Mirabelle had made them, thankfully. Julia took one, sat down, and eyed it thoughtfully.

"Honestly, Chelsea? I don't think Elliot will ask any time soon." She sighed. "He doesn't have the . . . courage?"

"Why not?" I wondered, "It's obvious that you love each other. Does he think you'll say no?"

"He might." Julia bit into the cookie.

Her eyes were sad. "Elliot doesn't have the highest self-esteem."

"Yeah, I know," I said, "I'm sure Natalie is partially the reason."

"She means well." Julia sighed again. "I'll just have to wait a while longer."

"Do you think _you'll_ ask, if you get fed up with waiting?" I chuckled.

She pretended to look horrified. "No, of course not. That's not . . . proper."

"So?" I asked, "You don't have to get down on one knee or anything. Just ask him why he's delaying."

"What if he already has something planned? It would ruin the whole thing," she argued.

I shrugged and didn't reply. A short silence passed between us before Julia suddenly raised one eyebrow and looked at me suspiciously.

"Why did you ask, Chelsea?"

I'd hoped she wouldn't ask me that. Perhaps it was time to test my lying skills again.

"I just know how impatient you've been. You should be happy. Though why nerds make you happy, I'll never understand." My voice was light, teasing.

Julia, however, was too smart to be distracted. Or lied to.

"Chelsea," she warned, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me the truth."

I bit my lip. "It's really not worth talking about."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

"I don't know, okay?" I snapped, probably too meanly.

She flinched a little. "Whatever, Chelsea."

Another long silence passed, while regret began eating me alive. There was no way I could escape being honest now. I hated hurting Julia's feelings.

"Julia," I said, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged and continued eating the cookie, unconvinced.

I groaned. "Would you forgive me if I told you why I asked?"

"Maybe."

I took a deep breath. "When I was in the city last time," I began carefully, "I was dragging Vaughn around to little shops."

She suddenly laughed. "He let you do that?"

"Yes," I said, sounding proud.

"He must really love you." She smiled, her eyes twinkling a little.

"I think he does," I said.

"I'm so happy for you. Even though you deserve better." Julia rolled her eyes.

"He's perfect, Julia. For me." I grinned.

"You hated him when you first met."

"I know. Ain't life strange?" I chuckled. "He's great. And it doesn't hurt that he's hot."

Julia grimaced. "Ew."

"You only say that because he's your cousin."

"No, I don't," she defended, "He wouldn't be . . . my type." She shuddered a little.

"I like strong and silent – you like nerdy and nice," I snickered.

"Shut up. Anyway, you were in the city with Vaughn . . ." she prodded.

I blinked, realizing how off-topic I'd gotten. I continued, "I wanted to go into a CD shop. He was lagging behind, because he was looking at something on display. I snuck out later to see what it was."

"And?"

"It was a ring," I said softly, "He was looking at it for a long time."

"Wow." Julia seemed comically shocked.

"Why does that surprise you?" I wondered.

She smiled; it was small and adoring. "I never thought Vaughn would get married. Especially after that thing with Sabrina didn't work . . . Anyway, just the fact that he's thinking about it, really makes me happy."

"He loves you, too, I think," I said, "He just has a funny way of showing it."

"I know he does," she agreed.

Yet another long silence. She finished the last of her cookie, and when she spoke again, her voice was very low.

"What are you going to say if he asks?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice just as soft.

Julia continued to smile and took another cookie.

* * *

The first days of Winter were always the hardest. The crops died, and I couldn't let the animals out very often because of the low temperatures. The only real ways to make money were fishing and mining – neither of which were my favorite activities. But I still had things to do – I wanted to expand my barn and buy an egg incubator.

Gannon was more than willing when I gave him the money for both things during the second week of Winter – I'd worked so hard lately, mostly to distract me from my thoughts of impatience. I really hated mining (Vaughn did, too, because I fell down pitfalls more than the average person), but fishing was bearable, because I fished with Denny in the mornings and early afternoons.

After that, he usually hurried to the Café to have lunch with Lanna. The morning after my renovations were complete, I happily placed a chicken egg into the incubator and purchased a Jersey cow from Mirabelle. I named it Kiki – she seemed to get along well with Lola, Cloud and my baby sheep.

I went into Chen's Shop the purchase a bigger tool box – as I was flipping through a catalogue, I noticed that he was advertising beds.

"Do you have any queens?" I blurted out unthinkingly.

Chen blinked, surprised. "Um, yes, I could get you a queen-sized bed, Chelsea."

Thankfully, he didn't ask why – he knew it was none of his business. The same could not be said, however, for his small son, Charlie.

"Whatcha want a bigger bed for, lady?" he wondered, his voice high-pitched and excited.

I shrugged, and desperately tried to keep from blushing. "I-I . . ." I trailed off.

"Is Julia's cousin going to live with you?" Charlie continued.

"Hush, now, Charlie," Chen said, shooing him into the back room.

"Thanks," I mumbled, turning and heading out of the shop, tool box forgotten.

* * *

"Are you almost done?" I asked.

"Yes," Vaughn said, dotting some t's and crossing some I's. Or whatever he did on those papers.

"We should go somewhere tonight," I said, "The sky's the limit."

He smiled a little. "Just a minute."

When he finally set the papers aside, he pulled me into his arms, and kissed me. "Where to?"

I smiled, pleased to see that he would go wherever I wanted, as long as we were together. "The temperature's supposed to be higher tonight. High fifties. Let's go to Meadow Island for a bit."

"Wild," he said.

I made a face, took his hand, and pulled him out of the Animal Shop. The sky was unbelievably clear tonight – it seemed like every tiny, insignificant star was shining in the sky, there just for us. The air was warmer than usual, with just a hint of chill to it.

I plopped down onto the grass of Meadow Island and just breathed, enjoying the moment. He sat down beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

"Isn't it pretty?" I asked after a moment.

He shrugged. "Sure."

I rolled my eyes. "A man of many words."

He chuckled. "You should know that by now."

"I do," I sighed, "I know every infuriating thing about you, you stubborn jerk."

He kissed my temple. "I love you."

"And I you," I agreed, turning my head.

This kiss was slow, tender and adoring. Afterwards, we sat in comfortable silence for a while. My impatience was always lingering around the edges of my mind, so it was probably what motivated my next words.

"Vaughn, do you ever think about the future?"

He blinked. "Yes."

"Am I in it?" I asked.

He snorted, like I was asking him the stupidest question in the world. "Yeah."

"Always?"

"Mmm-hmm."

I smiled to myself, staring up the stars again.

"Am I in yours?" Vaughn asked quietly.

"I believe so," I remarked, grinning.

He sighed, and then leaned his forehead against mine. "I thought about what you said. About moving here."

"Oh?" I asked, "And?"

"I know I want you around a hell of a lot more often than two days a week."

My heart sped up. "I see."

"Chelsea."

It was that tone. The one that made my bones soft and my heart melt. The one he used so rarely, but always meaningfully.

"Yes?" I whispered, wondering if the using of this particular tone had more significance now that it ever had before.

His hand slid into his pocket, and then pulled out a small, black box. He paused, refusing to meet my eyes and breathing a little irregularly. He opened it. And my heart started beating so fast it would surely wear itself out and stop completely.

This was the very same ring he'd been looking at in the store window. It was very beautiful, and – now that I thought about it – fairly expensive.

When Vaughn spoke again, his voice was rough. "I know you saw me looking at this before, so . . . this can't be too much of a surprise for you."

"I don't need to be surprised," I breathed, my voice sounding strange.

"There's also a tradition of blue feathers here" – the way he spoke now bordered on blabber – "and I could get you one. I just thought . . ." He swallowed heavily.

"Vaughn." I smiled, willing him on.

He paused, collecting his wits before finally saying – softly – the binding question.

"Marry me?"

My smile became impossibly wider. My arms – of their own accord – wrapped around his neck, and I was suddenly kissing him, the joy clouding my mind. When I pulled back, I realized in my haze that I hadn't actually answered him yet. Laughing, my answer was short, simple and sincere.

"Yes."

Vaughn smiled, and handed me the little box. I pulled the ring from its little pocket, and slid it onto my finger. Then I turned and started kissing him again, pausing occasionally to laugh happily again.

"My future suddenly got a whole lot better," I gasped.

He smiled. "Mine did, too."

* * *

Vaughn and I agreed to have the wedding in exactly one week, at Nathan and Alisa's church.

"Are you positive you'll stay on the Islands for the ceremony?" Nathan had said, but I knew what he was really asking.

_Are you sure you're actually going to marry this guy? _

"Yes," I said, too cheerful to be irritated by his implication.

After Vaughn left for the city – for the very last time – I hurried to the Animal Shop, but Julia wasn't around.

"She's at Elliot's," Mirabelle said.

"Thanks," I answered, whirling before she had a chance to notice the ring.

I wanted Julia to be the first to know. I didn't even knock when I got to the door of Taro's house. I was probably being very rude, but my mind was too fogged up to take into account normal courtesies.

Felicia blinked, surprised by my sudden arrival. "Good morning, Chelsea," she said, "Is something wrong?"

"No," I mumbled, blushing. "I, um . . . need to see Julia."

"She and Elliot went to Meadow Island."

"Thanks." I groaned internally, turning and running for Kirk's boat.

Julia and Elliot were sitting in front of the white shrine together, hand entwined, eyes wide and appreciative. They leaned forward to kiss, and I looked away for a moment, feeling like I was interrupting.

When Julia finally noticed me, standing less than three feet away, she blushed a little. "Hey, Chelsea. What's up?"

"Nothing," I said, playing it up. "Just wanted to say hello."

"Hello," Elliot said. It was quite obvious he wished I would leave, but he'd probably never ask to my face.

I plopped down onto the grass, stretching out my hands. "So, how are things?"

Julia gave me a look, the same Elliot was trying to convey. "Fine," she said carefully.

A long silence passed, and neither of them noticed, which was odd because the diamonds were glinting quite noticeably in the sunlight. Annoyed, I drummed my fingers, like I was playing a piano.

The movement finally caught Julia's eyes; she glanced down and saw what I'd been trying to show her all along. Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a little 'o'.

"Chelsea, is that what I think it is?" she asked, her voice awed.

"Yep." I grinned.

Julia laughed and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. "This is great," she enthused, "We can set up a real wedding this time!"

"Hopefully without any runaway brides," Elliot chuckled.

I glanced at him, irritated. "That was different."

He swallowed, probably regretting his words. "I'm sorry," he muttered to the grass.

Julia ignored the little exchange, babbling on like it hadn't happened. "Where should we have the reception?"

I looked around, listening to the waves brushing the Island. "I'd like for it to be here."

"But what if it rains?" Julia looked up at the clouds suspiciously, as if they were already plotting.

I shrugged. "Then it rains."

"We can set up lots of tables, and Pierre would probably bake the cake . . . Regis or Chen might be able to get some lights . . . Lanna could provide music . . ."

"It'll be great." Elliot grinned. "Julia's good at planning these things."

"I have total faith in you." I smiled.

"What about a honeymoon?" Julia asked after a minute.

I reddened a little at that. "Um, it's not really necessary."

She shrugged, but a scheming glint I knew well came into her eyes.

"Seriously, Julia," I warned.

"Alright." But of course, she continued to plot.

"I'll need a dress," I realized suddenly.

Julia glanced over at Elliot for a minute, as if she didn't want him to hear her next words. "Elliot, Chelsea and I need to be alone to think. It's girly stuff, you know."

Elliot sighed longingly, but he kissed her cheek and got to his feet. "Okay – Grandpa probably needs me back anyway."

When we were alone, Julia grinned. "I've got something. Let's get back to the Animal Shop."

We hurried back to Vendure Island, and then into the Shop.

"You have a wedding dress?" I asked, a little surprised.

"Yes," she said defensively. "There's nothing wrong with planning ahead."

"Of course not," I teased.

She made a face and led me back into her pretty pink and yellow bedroom. In her large closet, a dress had been placed inside a long plastic bag. She pulled it out and draped it over the bed.

"Does Elliot know you have this?" I wondered, but it was probably a stupid question.

Julia looked at me as if she thought so. "No, of course not."

I examined it for a moment in silence. It was everything a wedding dress should be – white, elegant and graceful. I touched the bag, and smiled a little.

"What do you think?" Julia asked me quietly.

"It's great," I said.

I looked up, and she was staring at the dress, too. "Hopefully I'll wear it soon."

"You will," I promised. "You really want me to wear it, though?"

"Yes," she said.

I grinned, and hugged her again.

* * *

The other Islanders reacted pleasantly to my news. It wasn't like I didn't get comments, though, especially from the more blunt residents.

"Are you _sure, _Chelsea? You don't want a reputation as a runaway," Natalie laughed.

"Why are you marrying him when you could have had the other one?" Eliza asked, truly confused. "He was so rich."

"Make sure you stick with this one, Chelsea," Denny chuckled.

But everyone was genuinely happy for me. Including Will.

"I cannot say that I'm surprised, dear Chelsea," he'd said when I caught up to him outside the Diner.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really. You really do love him, don't you?" Will smiled at me.

"Yes," I agreed, glad there were no hard feelings between us.

"And he loves you?"

"I believe he does, yes."

"Then I'm glad for you. I shall attend the ceremony." He glanced in the window, where Lily was waiting for him.

"Things worked out for the best, didn't they?" I asked softly. "I mean, you love Lily, don't you?"

"Yes," Will said, "She is my everything now. That's not to say I don't wonder what might have been, Chelsea. Do you ever do that?"

I sighed. I actually did sometimes, but the image was not a happy one. "Occasionally," I admitted, "But it doesn't . . . delight me."

Will chuckled. "Well, then I suppose it was best."

He leaned down to peck my cheek. "I love you, Chelsea. I probably always will." He shrugged, turned, and disappeared into the Diner.

* * *

A week is a very long time to wait. I sort of slacked with my chores and responsibilities; I'd planned on raising Rice Island by now, and I desperately needed to expand my chicken coop, as I was one feeder short now.

But I couldn't seem to focus. So I spend most of the week in a happy daze. Julia – and all the other women on the Islands, for that matter – helped put the ceremony and reception together. Predictably, Pierre agreed to bake the cake and the rest of the food. It overjoyed him to make so much for a big party.

"It gives me the chance to try out my new recipes," he'd said enthusiastically.

And I didn't worry, because Pierre never made anything that tasted bad. Lanna agreed to loan us some speakers, and Regis had a few elegant lights and candles he reluctantly handed over. Sabrina gave me a necklace decorated with pretty blue stones, undoubtedly real.

"Something blue," she said.

By the actual date of the wedding, every Island resident seemed to be buzzing with excitement, or at least not totally dreading the occasion. Julia and Natalie showed up outside my house at the crack of dawn, much more optimistic at this hour than usual.

"We've allowed an hour to make you beautiful," Natalie said, plopping me down on one my dining room chairs, "and then you're getting married. To quite possibly the biggest jerk in the world. Good luck."

But she was smirking as she said this, so I knew she was joking. Probably. Julia made a face at her and began playing around with my hair.

* * *

I could hear people settling into the seats as the church grew more and more populated. A strange lump formed in my throat as I thought of the significance of this day. It was one that I would remember for the rest of my life.

I would celebrate it for years to come. It was supposed to be one of the best. And it was. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths as the music started and Julia headed down the aisle, in a beautiful crystal-blue dress Lanna had picked out.

When she passed Nathan and Alisa and stood off to the side, she curled two fingers at me, indicating that it was time. Sucking in quite possibly the biggest breath physically possible, I started stepping down the aisle, making eye contact with a few people in the audience – they smiled kindly – before looking up.

Vaughn smiled at me, and a small part of my mind wondered if this was the first time some of the other Islanders had seen him smile. He had reason enough to today, of course. His eyes were loving and affectionate.

I was sure my expression mirrored his almost exactly. I stood next to him and took his hands as Nathan began speaking. For a moment, I was consumed by wonder. If someone had walked up to me a little over a year ago and told me that I would agree to marry the arrogant animal dealer I'd just met, I would have laughed in their face and told them they were crazy.

But hate had slowly morphed into curiosity. Curiosity became denial. Denial turned into hope. And finally, hope turned into love. It was a strange cycle. But, as I stared into his eyes, I knew that it had all been worth it. I would go through it a million times over.

A future that had once seemed highly impossible was now a very startling reality.

"I do," I said, when Nathan asked.

"I do," Vaughn agreed, when it was his turn.

When it was time to kiss, a tear leaked out of one my eyes. His lips pressed against mine lightly, and then he pulled back, taking my hands again and smiling. The Islanders applauded, and then we all went outside.

"Hi," I said in his ear.

"Why, hello." Vaughn's smile was wider than I'd ever seen it.

We stared at each other for a long time, and the other Islanders had the sense not to ruin the moment for us. So I jumped a little when I heard a loud clanging noise. Wide-eyed, I stared at the church bell, which I'd never heard before. Apparently, the others echoed my thoughts.

"That's never gone off before," Mirabelle said.

"Weird," Denny agreed.

Nathan smiled and laughed. "That bell goes off during some weddings," he explained.

"Only some?" Lanna asked.

"The Harvest Goddess rings it to give her blessing, and to signify that the couple will have a happy life together."

My eyes darted to the pond, and – for a fraction of a second – I saw the Harvest Goddess's image, winking at me. As she disappeared again, I heard her voice, clear in my ears.

"Congratulations, Chelsea. I wish you a lifetime of joy."

I smiled, glancing over at Vaughn. His eyes were wide and surprised, so I wondered if he'd heard those words, too.

"I love you," I said suddenly.

He blinked, and then smiled down at me again. "I love you, too."

And then we all set off for Meadow Island.

**A/N:** **There's just an e****pilogue**** to go now. I'm seriously considering a sequel, but it would be pretty different from this story. I'll call it off if things don't go smoothly. But put me on your Author's Alert if you want to keep an eye out for it. **

**There's a few pictures for Love and Hate on my profile now. When you click on it, it takes you to a page that says 'Redirect Notice'. Just click on the link next to the sentence: "The previous page is sending you to _." Note that Will's mansion is the first house on the page. What do you think of them? **


	18. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Everything was perfect.

Julia had obviously put all her talent into this party – and everyone else, for that matter. My eyes took in all the tables, covered it elegant white lace tablecloths, small glowing lights, and the long table supporting different sorts of food.

At the head of the table was a tall white cake, beautifully crafted with several roses made of creamy-looking frosting. Lanna's speakers were placed around the Island at regular intervals, and soft music was emitting from them at the perfect volume.

At times like this, it was so easy to believe that everyone on these Islands were family. Everyone scatted immediately, chatting and laughing happily. Pierre led us over to the table and went over his cake, point by point.

"The roses are a little difficult to craft," he admitted, "but the end result is worth it, don't you think?"

"Yes." I smiled. "It's marvelous, Pierre – thank you." I nudged Vaughn.

He sighed, and managed a small smile at the childish chef. "Yeah, thanks."

Pierre grinned, and then looked over my shoulder.

"This is a wedding reception, Pierre – not a cooking class." Natalie came up from behind us and smiled fondly at him.

"I know." He frowned, and the expression made him look like an agitated toddler.

"It's alright, Natalie. Everything is so perfect." Joy was evident in my voice, in my face, in my everything.

"Don't you think, Vaughn?" I asked.

Natalie raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Watcha think cowboy?"

He grimaced at her. "It's . . . great," he muttered.

His eyes stayed on Natalie's, like he was trying to beat her in a staring contest. I wondered if there would always be this competitiveness between them. Reluctantly, Natalie looked away and took Pierre's hand.

"Let's go linger," she said, slipping away with him.

I chuckled, and stood on my toes to kiss Vaughn.

"You're not exactly the life of the party, you know," I said.

"I don't really care what they think," he grumbled, pulling me closer, "This is supposed to be about _us._"

"Yes," I agreed softly.

The way he kissed me then was not exactly courteous in a crowd of people – his mouth opened against mine, and his tongue stroked mine. I pushed him back, my cheeks filling up with blood.

"There's _people _here, Vaughn. Watching us."

"So?"

I rolled my eyes, and took his hand. "Hold it together long enough for us to go thank your cousin."

We found Julia with Elliot – predictably – sitting at one of the tables, a flickering candle illuminating their faces. I hugged Julia without even saying hello first.

"Thanks so much, Jules," I said in her ear.

She shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I laughed. "It _is. _You didn't have to do so much . . ."

A mischievous glint came into her eyes, and suspicion welled up inside me.

"If you think that _this _was too much," Julia said, gesturing around the party, "Then you'll really hate me when you find out what else I did." V

aughn groaned. "What did you do, Julia?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, and then focused back on me. She smiled, and opened a little purse I hadn't noticed lying on the table. "I – well, _we_ – got you both a present."

"Who's we?" Vaughn asked, sounding – like me – suspicious.

"_We_ as in, pretty much everyone on the Islands." She handed me a creased white sheet of paper, clearly proud of whatever she'd done.

I studied the page she'd given me, my eyes scanning the words until I got the general meaning behind them.

"You bought us . . . mini bars?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing together. The sentences were all so professional, and that was the only word that made much sense.

Julia rolled her eyes, and Elliot snickered.

"They're confirmation papers," he explained, "From a high-class hotel in the city."

"What are they confirming?" I asked, my voice low.

"Reservations," Julia replied happily, "For a whole week."

My eyes widened. "Julia, that's too long! And you didn't . . . I mean, it wasn't necessary" – My words sounded like incoherent babble.

Vaughn smiled, his eyes scanning the paper over my shoulder. "Sounds good," he murmured.

"Good?" My tone was reproachful, but inside, my heart was fluttering. A week away in the city with Vaughn . . . not having to work, just _being _together.

_Well, _said a little voice in my head, _obviously you'll be doing _something.

I blushed and looked away, hoping the others wouldn't notice, continuing my previous half-hearted rant.

"Vaughn, you're cousin's took good. I've done nothing in my life to deserve my best friend."

"Neither have I," Elliot laughed, squeezing Julia's hand.

"Oh, hush." Julia smiled at him, her eyes loving and tender.

Vaughn snorted. "She's certainly _something._"

I pretended to scowl at him, but Julia spoke before I could. She reached out with her free hand, and took her cousin's.

Her expression was an odd mix of adoration and annoyance. "You know you love me, Vaughn. And my Mom, too."

Vaughn blushed a little, and cleared his throat. "Erm . . ." He didn't know what to say to that.

I decided to rescue him from this little awkward moment. "Julia, you didn't" –

"Oh, shut it, Chelsea." Julia rolled her eyes. "Have a good time. That's how you can repay me. Alright?"

I was about to let her have it again, but I was too joyful to hide it any longer.

"Okay," I said, caving gracefully.

Vaughn pulled me away from the after we said our goodbyes – and found out we had to check in at the hotel around noon – so we could dance. I leaned my head on his shoulder, and breathed deeply in contentment.

"I love you," I said quietly.

He kissed my forehead. "I love you, too."

"Good to know." I smiled.

A short, comfortable silence fell over us before he broke it, his voice still soft. "We don't have to go on the trip if you don't want to, you know."

Disappointment sprang into my heart, but I made my voice light and teasing. "Ditching me already?"

He chuckled. "You didn't seem to care for the idea."

"I have to pretend, don't I? It's only polite."

"Polite." He said the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

I laughed. "I know you're not too familiar with the concept."

Vaughn shrugged. "I was apparently polite enough for you to marry me."

"Maybe I married you because you look good," I whispered, kissing his jaw.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh well."

We continued to dance, and then afterwards we had cake. We were congratulated by everyone – including Will. He came up to us both towards the end of the party and shook my hand.

"Congratulations, Chelsea."

I smiled. "Thank you, Will."

Vaughn nodded at him once, barely bothering to conceal his irritation.

I nudged him. "Be nice," I whispered.

Will didn't take offense. Lily was lingering behind him, but she didn't approach. Honestly, the treasure-hunter and I had never really connected. The party died down after that, and people began to depart.

"You should probably board the boat that leaves at ten this evening, Chelsea. You can check a little early at the hotel," Julia said before she left.

"You'll look after my ranch, right?" I asked.

"Of course. My mom and Elliot will help." She hugged me tightly, and then she was gone.

Vaughn and I sped back to Vendure Island, went to my house and Mirabelle's to change and pack, and headed to Sprout to wait on the dock, hand in hand.

* * *

The boat ride to the city was relatively quiet.

Vaughn held me tightly on the little couch in the observation room with thoughtful eyes. I would have tried to make conversation, but the silence was so peaceful and comfortable. I must have fallen asleep on his shoulder, because the next thing I knew he was waking me up, and we were traveling down the city streets, blinded by the lights and almost deafened by the noise, even though it was late.

The directions to the hotel were on the back of the paper Julia had given us, so we got there fairly easily. The woman behind the counter was finely dressed and professional, but she looked tired. We confirmed out reservations, signed the necessary papers, and received our key – our room was on the third floor.

When we walked into the elevator, a little ball of nervousness I didn't understand made itself known in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't until we actually entered the magnificent room that I actually realized the reason behind it.

For the moment, I pushed it away to examine my surroundings more closely – because if I didn't I would surely worry myself to death. I tried to look everywhere but at the bed – a king-sized, so much bigger and probably more comfortable than my small twin back home.

I stared at the sleek black plasma TV mounted on the wall, at the mini bar next to the bathroom door, at the huge reclining chair in the corner. A long silence feel between us – this one wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one before.

I hurried over to the window and stared out at the city, pretending like I was absorbed in the flashy lights and impressive buildings. I'd only been standing there for a few minutes before I felt Vaughn behind me.

"What are you looking at?" he asked quietly, kissing my ear.

I shrugged, and tried to remember how to speak. "Nothing," I replied.

He kissed my temple, my neck, my cheek.

"Are you tired?" I wondered, my breathing irregular.

"No," he whispered, "Are you?"

I took a deep breath. It probably wasn't irrational to be nervous now. He loved me, I loved him, and I knew that I _wanted_ to . . .

"No," I murmured, leaning my head back on his shoulder, "I'm just fine."

His lips were on mine almost as soon as I'd spoken the words. His hands held my hips, turning me so I was facing him. My arms reached up to wrap around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His body was so warm, and his kisses were so intoxicating.

I pushed my nervousness away – for the moment – and tried to think of nothing else but breathing. This was going to be fine. I just had to trust him. And I did. So I was not _too _anxious when he picked me up and carried me towards the bed.

* * *

"Is this trip turning out as well as you hoped?" he asked.

The morning light was restricted by the dark curtains pulled over the window, but it seeped in through the cracks, illuminating the room.

I yawned and smiled. "Better."

It was the nicest feeling in the world, waking up in Vaughn's arms. It had happened a few times before, but this time I didn't have to feel guilty or awkward about it. Of course, last night could also be contributing to my happiness . . .

He kissed my shoulder. "Good."

I sighed. "I wish we could stay here forever."

"We could . . . for another six days."

I smiled. "Yes," I agreed, "But wouldn't you rather go out and enjoy the city?"

He looked at me like I was a nut.

I laughed, and ran my hand down his chest, his stomach. "I know a few other shops we didn't visit last time," I snickered.

His glare was teasingly dark. "I don't think so."

"Well." My voice was dramatic. "What _else _could we possibly do for all that time?"

"I have _no _idea." His hands caressed my body.

"Oh wait," he said quietly after a moment, "Maybe I do."

I laughed, and kissed him, deeply and passionately. When we were both gasping, I managed to murmur for the thousandth time, "I love you so much."

"Love you, too," he murmured into my throat.

I smiled to myself. I had what I wanted. The future was bright with possibilities. I was so hopelessly and completely in love – and, ironically, it had come from hate. I had long since stopped caring about that, but it still sometimes left me amazed and wondering. He kissed me again, long and hard. I had one last coherent thought before all reasonableness left me completely.

The line between love and hate is sometimes thinner than you think it is.

**The End**

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed my story. I can't tell you how much you are appreciated. **


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